I Remember It Well
by kateofallpeople
Summary: Hermione ran off four years ago, leaving behind a shameful fiasco and everyone with it. Wandless for four years, she receives a letter from Hogwarts begging her help, and accepts-despite knowing that caused her to leave is there too. Harry. Smut/Lang/Viol
1. Chapter 1

Wood was a rather odd material, she supposed. In the form of a pencil - unpainted, but coated in something clear - it very nearly reminded her of something she'd held very dear to her, once before. Though hers had been twice as long, had an ornate handle at the end, and was made of much better materials. When she let this little pencil fall to the desk, it bounced just a bit on the rubbery little eraser. Picking it up again, and picking her face up from off her arm, Hermione straightened up and began another day at work, doing accounting and mathematical work for a large corporation. Her tiny office was clean as a whistle, and smelled like oranges - she'd had one with her lunch - and it was very nearly her second home.

"Dollars spent per capita - office supplies. Oh, you've got to be joking..."

She clicked through a computer, brought up a few files, and input the correct number. Again, she purposefully dropped the pencil. Was this what her life had come to? Holing up in a tiny office in a high-rise in London, dropping pencils and eating the same lunch every day_? Yes_. She began to think of what her life may have been like, if she'd stayed behind... but shook herself out of it. If there was one thing Hermione had gotten good at over the past four years - that was hiding. From both the past, and from the world she used to belong to.

* * *

><p>Her flat was just as her office was - clean, orderly, and devoid of anything distracting. The walls in every room were nearly blindingly light, and would be seen as such if she'd have more light in the place or if she'd had anyone to visit in the last few years. Neither of these things seemed possible - brighter light bulbs were an unnecessary expenditure, she had no friends or family anymore to speak of or to think that would visit her, and just the idea of having a brightly lit room filled with friends made her laugh - or, as close as she'd been to it lately. Once the door was safely shut behind her, Hermione retired to her room, changed from her work attire, and laid down briefly. She could go out to dinner tonight and deal with being alone, or find something to cook in small enough quantities that she wouldn't have leftovers for a week. Leftovers stank up the flat anyway, she surmised, and decided to leave her flat for no more than one half hour to retrieve something she might like. Perhaps pasta.<p>

Going back down the stairs of her apartment building was never pleasing to her. She was always on the way to somewhere unpleasant - work, work, or dining alone. She'd lately taken to just getting takeout and eating at home, not dealing with the pitying stares of those around her. People had begun to recognize her as the loneliest woman in town. It wasn't the title that bothered her - it was that people were recognizing her.

So far though, only one person had ever actually recognized her for who she was. It had been only a few months since the final battle, and Hermione was just preparing to leave her rented room in Ottery St. Catchpole to move into her current flat. She was two days too late - picking up lunch one blissfully sunny afternoon, she heard her name vaguely through the crowd of the busy little cafe. She thanked Merlin she'd ordered her food in a to-go box. Flicking her head around only confirmed her watcher's guess at her identity - when she saw a Press notebook in her hand and a camera in her pocket, Hermione stood, tossing money on the table and grabbing her box, rushing out the door. She heard one question before it shut behind her.

"Hermione! Can I get a comment about your recent divorce? What happened between you two?"

It was the last she'd ever heard from anyone else about the fiasco. She left her room that night, moved into the flat early, and said not a single goodbye to an entire world of people - the magical one.

* * *

><p>Her outing for takeout had been successful - every time she left her flat, she felt she was being watched. There were knocks on her door that she never answered, letters through her mailbox that she never read. She'd grown very nearly paranoid, eager to leave behind the wizarding world and all memories associated with it. Unlocking her door and grabbing the mail from the bin, she rushed inside, set down her bag - Thai food from just a block away - and sat down to sort through the mail.<p>

"Junk, junk, adverts, I really should just bin the whole lot of it..."

Her sentence stopped short when she came upon the last letter of the bunch. She'd received letters from people from her past before - writing that was unmistakably Harry's, Ron's, Ginny's, even Lavenders - but had not quite come across one like this before. It was a letter she'd received just seven times before, each almost identical to the others. Beautiful parchment, a wax W seal on the back... no. She'd gone mad. A letter? From her old school? It had been over four years since she'd been there, five since she'd actually attended.

_Hermione Jean Granger  
>1612 Vandermoor, APT 12<br>EC1Y 8SY  
><em>

Perhaps it was curiosity. Perhaps it was the thought of a pencil resembling her wand, cast aside and sitting in a drawer of her bedside table all this time. She set down the other letters, saving the one from Hogwarts in her hand. It was perhaps two sheets of paper, just as her school letters had been as a student. She peeled back the seal gingerly, almost afraid that something might pop out at her or sound off loudly. Nothing came - only two sheets of parchment, folded neatly in half. She unfolded these slightly quicker, curious as to what the letter could entail.

The writing she recognized immediately, and she very nearly burned the letter from where she sat. It was slanted, scratchy, and just the same as it had always been.

_Hermione, _

_I wouldn't write you if I wasn't absolutely desperate. I know you want nothing to do with me, or anyone else for that matter, but matters have become urgent. Hogwarts is severely understaffed. We've dwindled down from fifteen staff members to under ten. We can't hold school this semester without enough staff to hold classes - and at only eight or nine staff, Hogwarts would be forced to close for at least a year until we can get our numbers up. Three others have already agreed to return, meaning I only need someone skilled enough at Arithmancy and Ancient Runes to be able to get Hogwarts back to working order. Like I said, I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate... but nobody else has test scores or qualifications like you do. I've tried, trust me. _

_I would be humbled by your return to Hogwarts, as an interim Professor for this school year. You don't have to keep the job more than that year if you don't want to, but I'd like it if you did, I'll admit. I talked to Professor McGonagall just yesterday, this will be her last year as Headmistress. I haven't had enough experience to take her place, likely it will be Sinistra or Sprout. Both of them have approved of my choice in trying to get you to come back as a Professor. Of course, you'll only be teaching Third years and up, likely only fourth years since we'll have to split your subjects, if you decide to come back. _

_I know I've done you wrong - worse than anyone could have ever imagined. I've lived with the guilt and consequences of ruining your marriage for the entire four years, two months, and three days you've been gone. Ron and I don't speak anymore. I rarely see Ginny, and when I do she's distant and almost always sarcastic. I've been seeing Luna occasionally, though Luna is as Luna has always been - you know what I'm talking about. I know that if you accept this position, you have every right in the world to not speak a single word to me and to pretend I don't exist - in fact, I wouldn't blame you for telling the entire world about what I did. I deserve worse, really. But know that I have thought about you every day and dreamed about you every night since you left. I read in the paper about you leaving that cafe, and I've eaten there a few times, just wondering if you'd ever come back for a sandwich or something. Of course, you're smarter than that. Can you blame me for hoping? Well, I guess you can blame me for everything... _

_I'm not asking you to put our past behind us. I'm asking you, as an old friend, as who we were as close as we were, to come back to Hogwarts as a Professor, for at least one year. I'm doing this for the students, for the brightest and best of what our education has to offer. Nobody can do this like you can. _

_Please respond in good time - I'll need to know within a few days whether or not you'll be accepting the position so that I can inform McGonagall and we can begin planning for this year. My best regards to you, always. _

_Harry Potter  
>Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts<br>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

The letter fell from her hands as tears fell from her eyes. She'd never, in her wildest dreams, expected anything of this sort. At most, she was perhaps expecting a letter from McGonagall checking up on her, or notification of an award (she'd gotten quite a few of those), but never an offer of employment. And especially not one from Harry. Just _thinking _his name made her see red, made her heart fall into her stomach and made her shake - from anger or apprehension, she couldn't be sure. So much had transpired between the two of them, they had both done so much to ruin their own lives and friendships - it was due to these mistakes that Hermione was where she was now.

She remembered her wand again, laying unused in the drawer. Slowly, deliberately, she walked into her bedroom and retrieved it. The chill from her hands after reading the letter was gone, now she could only feel a nearly desperate heat emanating from the wand in her hands. Vine wood, Dragon heartstring. She'd had her exact wand replicated just after the final battle, eager to be rid of Bellatrix's. Only the designs on the handle were slightly different - and appropriately so. These were less pretty, more interesting. She set it down in her drawer again, shutting it with her knee. Returning to pick up the letter was the hardest thing she'd done in years. Nodding as she did was surprisingly easy. It was a shock, and yet not - to herself, anyway - that Hermione knew from the moment she'd finished reading that she was accepting this position. Perhaps she wouldn't speak to Harry all year. Perhaps she'd become friends with him again. Either way, she had to do this - for the students, for great Hogwarts and the staff that would be out of a job if she didn't come back. And she had to speak to Harry before she did. Ten minutes later, she'd drafted a simple, sufficient way of saying what she wanted to say. Addressed to Harry, the letter only read two lines.

_I'll accept, if you arrive at my flat by noon tomorrow to discuss options and what our interactions will be like during this year. I've spent four years avoiding everyone, I'd better start back into it with you. _

She slipped it into the envelope, placed it in her mailbox - everyone knew that nearly every mail carrier was a wizard - and moved into her kitchen, opening her bag of Thai food. It was still warm. She took it as a good omen.

**AN: OKAY. So I'm finally getting this up... and having huge issues naming it. I think I'm going to stick with what I have, because it's a line from a song that kind of plays really well into the storyline. Better summary - Hermione has spent the last four years living in solitude. Her wand has lay, unused, in the top drawer of her bedside table. She had given up the idea of ever being involved with anything magic again. But when a letter comes from Hogwarts, begging her help, she can't resist, despite knowing that the very person she ran away from is working there too. She can't decide if she's dreading the year ahead of them, or if she's really feeling something else entirely. In nearly four years, Hermione has not been able to decide what her feelings for him ever were - wonderful, or destructive. The triwizard tournament is returning to Hogwarts, adding extra drama to the situation. It'll get pretty interesting next chapter, they're reunited, blah blah blah. You'll find out half of why Hermione ran away, and the other half comes later... hehe. Hope you enjoyed, please review! And check out my other fics **


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:Hello! Sorry it's taken so long to update, I've been working really hard on the last few chapters of two of my more popular fics and they're both really time consuming. Anyway, I seemed to get decent response for a first chapter on this fic so I'm continuing it. Hooray! This chapter has all sorts of argumentative angst, dears, and I really do hope you'll enjoy it!You'll get to hear the first half of why Hermione hates Harry (and herself) so much, in this chapter. The rest comes a chapter or two from now, you'll see :)  
><strong>

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><p>He'd arrived five minutes early, and paced up and down her short hallway for an extra two minutes. She was aware of this - the walls were thin in her apartment building, and she could vaguely hear him rehearing a little speech he'd likely give her in a few minutes, cursing, and muttering to himself. When at last the bell did finally ring, Hermione was already at the door, hand on the knob. She was not prepared for what was on the other side.<p>

Harry Potter had changed so drastically in the last four years that if it hadn't been for his telltale piercing green eyes and mostly-hidden scar, she might not have recognized him. Gone was boy wonder Harry, her shy and awkward best friend from childhood. The man that stood before her now was at least four inches taller, dwarfing her entirely. His shoulders were broader, he was nowhere near as thin as he used to be, and there was a hint of muscle underneath the worn white t-shirt he wore over jeans. His hair was longer, as long as it had been in their fourth year, and very nearly covered the scar on his forehead. That lightning bolt sent something like a shock up her spine, instantly reminding her of everything - the war, the summer after they graduated, the three years after that, the eight months that ruined everything, and the four years after that she'd spent entirely alone. It was like looking at her life flash before her eyes - her life with Harry, however brief it was. She could see his brow sweating slightly and his cheeks were flushed - both classic signs that he was nervous as all hell. He said nothing, only breathing somewhat loudly, while she observed. It was the first time she'd seen Harry in four years, or seen any witch or wizard, for that matter. And the shock of seeing the man who had been both the only one to give her life meaning, and the one who ruined it? An internal turmoil like this, she'd never experienced before.

"Can I... Hermione."

She blinked, unable to focus at all on what he was saying. It was surreal, to say the least. He huffed out a deep breath and looked into her eyes for the first time, and she very nearly had a heart attack on the spot. She was torn between wanting to jump up into his arms and simultaneously, to hex him half to death. Instead of choosing, she stepped back. He mirrored her step, stepping forward towards her and over the threshold, into her flat. He glanced around, agape. This was not how he planned this.

"Harry?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"You know I'm only taking this job so that Hogwarts isn't closed."

"Yes."

"So how are we going to handle this? What's going to happen?"

He cleared his throat. This was, apparently, what he'd been practicing. He looked at her, at the floor, and back at her again.

"McGongall and I both knew you had to be the one to do it. We've been talking about it since four different teachers announced their retirement last year. You're the only one with skills enough for the job. I told her... not everything. But enough. And she understood that there was... history. But she asked me to ask you anyway, for Hogwarts sake. And I'm asking you, for Hogwarts sake."

"And I said I'd take it if you showed up. And here you are."

"Right."

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I want a big office. Bigger than Umbridge's closet of an office. I want a classroom on a higher floor, I hate the lower floor classrooms."

"Not enough light. I remember."

"And I want to be able to teach NEWT students as well. So I'd like privilege to a subject where I can do that."

"Arithmancy and Runes will both..."

"Another, then. Stricter. I want to teach the best and the brightest."

"Flitwick retires next year, with McGonagall. I'm sure he wouldn't mind that."

"I enjoy Charms, that would... I'd like that."

"I know. I'll take care of it. Anything else?"

"I want total access to the staff bathroom. I'd like to help be in charge of Prefect and Head Student meetings."

"That's what I do."

"Then if you still want to do it, you'll have to find a way to do it with me."

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I'll take care of it." He started to reach across the distance between them, wanting to grab her hand to reassure her. Before he's had the chance, she hurriedly stuffed her hands into the pockets of her sweater. He took in a deep breath and retracted his hand, forcing a slight smile.

"Harry?"

"I... yes?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Which part?" He sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. She took it, for reasons beyond her understanding.

"All the parts. From December of ninety-seven to just over four years ago."

"Do you want to know the honest truth?"

"I want to hear whatever you can say that will justify what you did to me."

He grimaced, and she summoned a cup of tea - just one for herself. He noticed.

"Honestly, Hermione... that would take a while to explain."

"I didn't tell you to come to my flat at noon because I like the sunshine, Harry. Unless something more important is reserving your time this afternoon, now is the time to talk."

"I did it because I wanted to, then. There really is no better explanation."

"Wanted to be with me, or wanted to ruin my life? You did both."

"I didn't want the second one. I don't really know what I wanted, I guess, I just went with what felt right." He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, obviously uncomfortable. "You know what happened that winter - the Christmas of seventh year. We were young and hurt and..."

"And entirely alone. And both separated from our respective Weasleys. And drunk."

"Hammered. We both know that one. After that you and Ron..." He paused and looked at her, as if unsure if she really actually wanted him to continue. She took over.

"Ron and I got married. Young and afraid that another Dark Wizard would try to rise to power and come after us when we thought we were safe. Yes. And then?"

"Then... why are you trying to peg all of this on me, Hermione?"

"Because it's your fault, _Harry._"

He stood, shaking his head. "I didn't exactly do it by myself. You were present and more than willing."

"How could you even say that?"

"Because it's the truth. You know it, I know it, Ron and Gin know it."

"I don't know what to say to you."

"Because you know it's the truth! What did I do in that situation that you didn't do?"

"I didn't sleep with a married woman."

"Yeah, well I wasn't cheating on a husband, either. Your moral ambiguity at the time says enough about the evenness of that situation. We're both to blame. The sooner you can accept that, the better."

She hadn't expected that. The fact had always sat in the back of her mind - she was definitely present and willing for the circumstances that started their fallout. But for the disastrous results? She felt only he was to blame.

"Harry, Ginny came back from University and..."

"And I fucked up, right? It's all my fault? You didn't have to keep going with it, I suggested we stop, but you..."

"I did nothing!"

"You're the one who brought it up first. I agreed because I wanted to - I needed to. But you said it first."

"And fine, we did. And then what? And what happened when I came to see you?"

"You weren't making any sense! You were being barmy, I couldn't understand a word you were saying, and then you were talking about things way too much for the company..."

"I don't care about your company. I needed to speak to you."

"What was so important?" He was no longer yelling, but the look in his eyes said that he was frustrated. His brow was knit together, his eyes squinting nearly closed. His mouth hung open slightly, the question seeming to have rolled out almost on accident."

"Maybe you'll find out one day, Harry. Maybe I'll tell you. All you need to know now is that it was enough of a thing to make me not use magic for four years and to run away from everyone and everything I loved."

He nodded, lips pressed together. It was obvious that he was catching onto something a lot more dramatic than he originally thought. He stood and headed for the door.

"The train leaves next Friday for students, but traditionally the staff comes up three weeks early. Obviously that time frame is gone, so as soon as you're ready, owl me and we'll get you to Hogwarts. And Hermione?" He turned the knob and stepped out the door, closing it enough so that just his face was showing.

"Yes?" She felt nearly breathless. The topic that had very nearly come up...

"I'm sorry." He shut the door, cutting himself off from view, and Hermione quickly realized she was going to need to duplicate a box of tissues ten times to get through the next few hours.

* * *

><p><em>Six Years Previous... <em>

_"Harry, are you home?"_

_"Of course, but..." He didn't have the chance to finish his question. In two seconds flat, Hermione had apparated herself into the sitting room of his flat, her face blotchy and red. She'd been crying again. It was two days before Christmas, and she was upset again. _

_"Firewhiskey's in the cabinet, and..."_

_"And our glasses are beside it. I know."_

_Her use of the _our_ glasses made him chuckle and shake his head. This wasn't the first time this had happened, and it wouldn't be the last. Hermione had taken to, when upset, apparating to Harry's flat, getting the both of them completely arseholed drunk, and watching films until the sun came up. She usually woke up wearing her knickers and one of his shirts, the result of spilling a glass of something on herself. And as Harry was her best friend in the world, he even had a separate stack of shirts he didn't care about for her to wear, in case she spilled again. This happened roughly once a month for the last year. She poured two very full glasses and managed to carry that and the bottle back to his coffee table, which was unusually littered with trash. _

_"Harry what is all this mess?" She looked him up and down - extremely messy hair, pajama pants, no shirt. He was pushing the garbage to the other side of the table, making room for their drinks. "And why does it look like you haven't left your flat in three days?"_

_"Because I haven't, obviously."_

_"Why is that?"_

_"I have no motivation and nowhere to go."_

_"I see. Cheers." She sat beside him, clinked glasses, and they both drained their first in one gulp. "Excellent. Now, Harry, you can't just stay in your apartment at all hours..."_

_"This isn't about my problems. It's about yours." _

_"Fine. Ron came home late again and I was in nothing but my knickers and he walked right past, didn't even really look at me."_

_"Have you considered that your husband might be homosexual?"_

_"Harry! Ron's a find husband, we've been together a little over two years and we're still really in love..."_

_"But you never, ever have sex."_

_"We do too!"_

_"Then why are you here? When was the last time, honestly?"_

_She had to think about it, and in the moment of silence Harry grinned, shaking his head. "I told you."_

_"It's been seven and a half months."_

_"You've only been married two years. That's almost half." _

_"Shut it."_

_"You're here drinking my whiskey, I get to make comments. You want my input anyway, let's not pretend this is the first time this has happened."_

_"Right, so we're just going to get entirely arseholed drunk and forget what we talked about?"_

_"That's the way you like it."_

_"No, the way I like it is actually getting it." She chuckled, and Harry followed suit._

_"Hermione, have you ever thought about... cheating on Ron?" _

_"Never! Harry he's my husband, that's serious! Ugh, I can't even..." She drained a second glass and again he followed suit. She poured them another. _

_"Really, though? He cheated..."_

_"Don't speak of it."_

_"And he's a totally barmy arsehole who doesn't fulfill your needs in that department."_

_"You're saying that because you're fighting with him again."_

_"No, it's just the truth. He's always been." Harry raised his eyebrows at her over the glass, and she laughed. _

_"You only fought over Quidditch."_

_"It was not quidditch, anyone can tell you that."_

_"What was it, then? It was. I was there for it."_

_"You weren't there for the part before that."_

_"Really."_

_"He found out about the summer after the war."_

_This killed Hermione's smile. "How?"_

_"Ginny told him. She's pissed at me, explaining me not leaving my apartment, and decided outing the both of us to one snog we had as teenagers was something she wanted to do."_

_"Wow." _

_"Yeah. You two weren't together, so he wasn't terribly pissed, but he's been irritable since then any time you get brought up. He knows I had... feelings for you."_

_"I see. I'll never forget that summer..."_

_"Glad to be a part of that." He winked at her, drinking more from his glass. She smacked his arm and he very nearly spilled the contents. _

_"It wasn't that it was that memorable, it was more like 'Oh, Hello, I just snogged my best friend...'" _

_"And I did snog you senseless. How funny, that a drink or two used to do that to us. Look at us now." They clinked glasses again, and Hermione laughed. _

_"Honestly, Harry. But he never told me he knew."_

_"Huh. Anyway, so he and I aren't talking and I'm single and you're without sex. We're pathetic."_

_"We are." Another clink of the glasses, and both were emptied. Hermione refilled them again. "What's on the telly?"_

_"Nothing good. It's a weeknight, it's all commericals and whatnot."_

_"Damn."  
><em>

_They sat in silence for a few moments, the whiskey quickly setting into effect. Harry suddenly and without warning burst into laughter, and Hermione was caught off guard so quickly that she spilled half of the rest of her glass on her blouse. _

_"Oh damn, this again..." She tried blotting at it after summoning a towel, but nothing worked. "The shirts?"_

_"Same place as always."_

_"What were you laughing about, anyway?" She stood and crossed the room, heading towards Harry's bedroom. _

_"Nothing... important. Nothing." _

_"That's the biggest lie I've ever heard and you know it!" She came back across the room and drained the rest of her glass, sealing her fate. She was totally and completely slurring drunk, and he was just as bad or slightly better. He grinned, his face forming something she wasn't sure she'd ever really seen before. _

_"I was thinking how weird it would be if that snog happened now, not then. Or now and then."_

_"That would... Harry!" _

_"It would what? Would it be nice, Hermione? Don't lie!" _

_"Oh, shut it. Just because I'm not getting any at the moment doesn't mean I want to throw myself all over you."_

_"Can I throw myself on you, then?"_

_She rolled her eyes and didn't dignify that question with an answer, rising again and shaking her head. "Honestly, Harry." _

_In a moment the grin from his face disappeared, and hers did as well. What if? _

_Before she could lose focus, she walked into his bedroom and into his closet, finding her pile of shirts on one side. She stripped herself of her jeans and the wet blouse and began to unfold Harry's shirt when she heard a creak behind her. She didn't have to look to know who was there or what was going on. She turned towards him, shirt in hands.  
><em>

_"I've seen you without a shirt before Hermione, you don't have to blush so furiously."  
><em>

_"You've seen me in a lot less, on the hunt. Remember?"_

_"I do. Perfectly." He stepped towards her, and she found herself unable to continue holding the shirt in her hands. The messy hair and no shirt that she'd previously found a little sad, she now couldn't stop thinking about. It was Harry - of course, as close as they were and after that snog, there had been mutual admiration. They each knew the other was attractive. But they hadn't acted on it since they were both single, and.._

_"Harry, I can't.".  
><em>

_"Can't, or won't?"_

_She stared at the discarded jeans and blouse. Suddenly, she felt so exposed, though she knew Harry had seen this much of her countless times before. She folded her arms in front of her, thinking that she ought to put those clothes back on and wait a minute to sober up before apparating home. Harry, however, knew what he wanted, and he wanted her. He always had. He stepped forward again, placing careful fingertips on her arm. She melted at his touch, dropping her arms and allowing him to step even closer, pressing their bodies together. He dropped his hand and held it flat against her open palm, which was slightly clammy from inebriation and nerves. _

_"Hermione, I..."_

_"I know. I do too." _

_She finally looked up at him, and the response - emotional and physical - was immediate. This was Harry, someone she'd always found attractive, someone who was so in sync with her, someone she always came to when she needed a shoulder or a hand or anything at all. Now, she needed love - real, honest, love. And she knew that he'd give it to her. They stripped themselves of the rest of their clothes and he walked her backwards into the bedroom, and lowered her onto the bed. There was no turning back now, not that either of them would ever, ever want to. _

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><p>Hermione pulled clothes from her drawers, packing them in her trunk. She hadn't used it since they were in school, but she'd kept it shrunken down in her things since then. It finally came in handy again. She packed her toiletries, her books, anything else she needed. She'd need to go to Diagon Alley, which she wasn't looking forward to because of the press, and get robes and things. She needed parchment, instead of the notebooks and paper she'd been using lately, and a quill instead of pens.<p>

At the bottom of one of her drawers, she found a small duffel she hadn't seen in years. In fact, the last time she'd seen it was probably at least five or six years ago. She unzipped the bag and proceeded to drop it back into the drawer, jaw dropping with it. Inside was a very familiar, worn in, white males button up shirt. It was probably from their Hogwarts years, and initialed on the inside tag were the initials HP.

She'd have to remember to burn that shirt one day.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hello, dears. Back again. I really like the amount of feedback I'm getting here. I know I have continuity issues, as it is with like EVERY FIC I'VE EVER WRITTEN, but if you notice one, just PM me :) Enjoy, and REVIEW please! **

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><p><em>I'm ready when you are. <em>

She sent the note by owl to Harry, and a reply came by sundown the next day.

_The apparition barriers have been let down until midnight tonight, for your personal use. Shrink down your belongings and bring them with you. Professor Potter is away on personal emergency and will return by the weekend. When you arrive, please come visit me in my office. The password is Wulfric, and I do hope you can stay for a while and chat. There are things we'll need to discuss, and you were one of my favorite students, after all. -MM_

So, McGonagall had replied. Harry was gone. But his owl had gone straight to Hogwarts, which was strange. She pushed the thought from her mind, shrinking her trunk to the size of a grape and placing the rest of her belongings in her backpack on her back. She'd packed just enough for the year, since she hadn't yet gone to get her teachers robes. Mostly she'd brought books, a photo album, a few keepsakes, casual clothes. That was all she needed, really. That, and a hefty dose of sleeping draught and her wits. She'd likely be going crazy within the week, so tissues were also necessary. She chuckled, thinking of her packed belongings, and concentrated hard on the entrance hall of Hogwarts, a place she hadn't been since her graduation just after the war. In an instant, she was standing just where she thought she'd be, bathed in the low lights from overhead, the sun just setting over the hills she could see through the window. It was like she'd never left - something grew inside her chest and prevented her from breathing properly, magic filled her every bone.

She then proceeded to vomit violently on the stone floor. Ah, it had been a long time since she'd last apparated, and she'd never been fond of it to begin with. Using a quick spell to clean the mess, she righted herself, took a sip of water from the bottle in her bag, and continued on to the headmistress' office. Providing the proper password, she climbed the stairs and saw her former teacher sitting at her desk, writing something with a curious look on her face. Hearing footsteps, she looked up. McGonagall looked no different than the last time Hermione had seen her, except for a bit more gray in her hair. She smiled warmly at Hermione and stood.

"Miss Granger - or should I say, _Professor _Granger. Lovely to see you."

"And you too, Headmistress. It's been a long time."

"I've not seen you since the war, dear. It's been nine years."

Had it really been that long? It was 2007. She supposed it had been. "It has. It's so strange being back here. I can't believe it's been nearly a decade."

"I can - I can feel it in my bones, now, and it's not nice. Now come sit, we've things to talk about... Harry came to me and told me some of what happened. I did not ask for more than he told me, but I'll repeat what he said to you, so that you may know what I know. In fact, I have my pensieve somewhere... ah. The self on the right. Would you mind?"

Hermione followed her point and removed the shallow stone basin from the shelf, setting on the desk in front of her new boss, who was already pulling the silvery strand from her head - a memory. She was going to show Hermione a memory. Hermione wasn't sure if she was ready for this, but before she could contemplate it any longer, McGonagall was gesturing to the basin, and Hermione was leaning in, headfirst...

_Two Days Previous... _

_"Harry, dear. I'm so glad you're here."_

_"As am I. Hermione agreed. She's coming to teach Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and NEWT level Charms." His face was red, his hair was a mess... and it was all too common, of course._

_"I assume you've mentioned this to Filius?"_

_"I have. He's agreed - he wanted to let go of it anyway. He's tired."_

_"I see. Have you cleared her an office?"_

_"I gave her mine." At this, he blushed even further, biting his lip.  
><em>

_"You gave up your office?"_

_"She's the only one I'd give it to - sorry, Headmistress."_

_"Of course, Harry. I know."_

_"You don't know everything." Hermione walked around to the side of the desk. Harry looked just as he had the day he'd come to see her, and he looked a mess. She still couldn't get over the change in him - he was a man now, as she was a woman. At 27, they were much different than they'd been four years ago, but he'd changed so much more. She wanted to reach out and touch him, though the gesture would be pointless, she knew. McGonagall was now eying Harry curiously - she'd get it out of him in no time. _

_"There was an... incident. Hermione and I were involved for an amount of time. Once on the hunt for horcruxes. There was an attraction after the war that we pushed aside, because of Ron and Ginny. They got married... it was loveless. Well, not loveless, but missing something else, if you know what I mean. We... we had an affair." There was a look on Harry's face that she couldn't quite place - nervous? Confused? Frustrated?  
><em>

_"Goodness, Harry. She was married! And you with Ginevra!"  
><em>

_"I know. We continued for much too long - Ginny came back to me, we started feeling guilty. We decided we'd have one last off. Ron caught us. They divorced, but Ron stuck around, she tried to flee..."His face fell. This was strange.  
><em>

_"I know the rest. I had no idea the reason. That's... I can't say it's terrible. Nothing stops feelings like that. I was young once." _

_"I never would have guessed." Harry grinned wide, and it made something in Hermione leap - she had loved that smile so much... McGonagall thought otherwise, tossing a piece of crumpled parchment at him. _

_"You'll have to work things out with her, Harry. I can't have problems between professors, and you know we need her." _

_"I know, Professor. I'll... I'll do whatever I have to.__ I ..." His face changed again, but she had no time to observe it. The world was already swirling around her, disappearing...  
><em>

The memory ended. "What did he say after that?"

"That's a story for another day, Miss Granger. I insist that you discuss this matter_ with Harry himself."_

"I'll try." She smiled weakly. "Which classroom is mine? Or, really, was Harry's?"

"It was the old Defense classroom."

"Harry gave up _that?" _

"He did. I think you should thank him for it, and get started on your lesson plans. Term begins soon, and unless you've secretly been teaching these subjects the last four years, you should get started while you have the free time."

Hermione nodded, turning to leave. "Thank you for this opportunity, Minerva, I..."

She held up a hand. "Nonsense. Thank you for agreeing to this. And Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"You really should talk to Harry. There's more to that situation than that conversation let on."

"I know."

Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes. She wasn't sure if she could survive the first real conversation about what had happened and how they were handling it. And where, exactly, his wife Ginny was. And how she felt about it. It was too much to handle. She turned and left, trying to distract herself with Runes already. But the word finally came to her - the word she could use to describe Harry's face when he was talking about her leaving, talking about their downfall and their fights. _Hopeless. _He felt hopeless. And she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

* * *

><p>By the day he returned, she had an entire slew of questions prepared, most of them beginning with <em>why<em>. The day he did finally come back, however, that list was tossed into the fire. She couldn't do this, not at all. She continued her lesson plans for the first month and waited. She knew he'd come - it was only a matter of time before she heard the knock. But when he did, what would she say anyway? She had no time to think about it - there was a soft knock at the door.

"Shit!" In her surprise, she'd knocked over her bottle of ink, completely ruining her plans. "Come in, please!" She siphoned the ink off the pages, attempting to safe what she could. As expected, a shock of raven black hair was the first thing visible - followed by a lighting bolt shaped scar, piercing green eyes, and pink cheeks. His glasses were different, she realized that now - gone were the wiry round spectacles she'd been so used to. In the years since, he'd made a switch to black plastic frames, not round this time but rectangular, the edges curved. She liked the change - it made him look even less like a child.

"Making a mess?"

"Yes, I... you scared me. I spilled my ink."

"Funny, that's usually reserved for... R-ron."

"How is he?"

Harry walked towards her, bending forward and leaning on his hands the back of a chair. He had muscles - god, he did. It was terrible. She could hit herself for looking at them. He sighed and looked at his hands on the chair. "I wouldn't know."

"But..."

"Hermione, I haven't spoken to him in a long, long time."

"Okay then. I talked to Minerva."

"I assumed she'd call you in. She's... meddlesome, at best."

"More than she used to be?"

"She used to just _know _everything about school and friends and such... now she knows everything about everything." He smiled, and she found herself following suit.

"Harry?"

"Yes?

"Where's Ginny?"

"That's... Hermione. I mean... I wouldn't know that, either."

"You're joking."

"Wish I was."

"You were engaged!"

"And you and Ron were married."

"Yes but..."

"It's no different. Unless you've been good mates with them since that night, you know as much as I do."

"Oh."

He nodded, and something in his face fell - the word hit her again. _Hopeless._

He looked at the clock on the wall, at her disheveled hair, and at the door. "You have work... I should be going."

"Yes. I think that's best." She bit her lip and cleared the last of the spilled ink off her lesson plans. Harry attempted a smile and left, stopping only momentarily before he shut the door behind himself.

She looked down at her lesson plans for the first week of school - she'd intended on teaching them basic phrases for school use, so that they might be able to write and practice. She saw a few runes scribbled on the page -

_Castle. High. Table. Professor. Gratitude. Curfew. Charm. Chance. Time. Work. _

Yes, she thought. It was definitely going to be a tough, trying beginning to the year.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Oh, goodness. Back again. This fic is just so... _angry _on paper. And it kind of needs to be, given the circumstances, and it only gets worse - twice or three times as bad, really, before it gets better. This is a good chapter, a little more background and a big reveal, and then a little hint/preview at the next chapter. Cheers, enjoy, and REVIEW PLX**

* * *

><p>She'd almost rather have that awkward talk <em>now<em>, and start getting over it. The days that had passed, and the few left before students arrived, had been driving her absolutely insane. Why had she done this, again? Right. For Hogwarts - _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts,_ - that was why. For students like she and her... her friends had been. And what had happened to those friends? Right.

Her life was, in short, an utter disaster. Living in the muggle world had been no problem, of course - she'd done it for eleven years as a child. But the thing that had bothered her, day in and day out, was her lack of real friends. In her adolescent years, she'd had Harry and Ron, Ginny and Luna, even Lavender for a spell - and Seamus, and Dean, George and... and Fred. And Neville! And look what had happened to them all. Instead of asking Minerva, like she could have, she took her inquiries to the one place she knew she could find out anything she needed to know - the Library.

It had been a decade since she'd been here. It was at one point her second home, she was there more often than the dormitories. She hadn't been back during what would have been her seventh year, she couldn't bear to see it in ruins, as she knew it must have been. Then all of these years between... she hadn't been here since she was seventeen. A mere teenager. Here she was, well past her teen years, and everything looked - well, exactly as it had been before. The only difference was the lack of books putting themselves back on shelves, and that was only because there were currently no students there to mess everything up. Even Madam Pince hadn't shown up yet - something about a little infection, she'd likely be there by the start of term. It was eerily silent, dust settled on every surface. She slowly waved her wand across the room, watching every bit of dust settle together into a stone-like thing in the middle of the room. She watched it soar into the tiny garbage bin in the corner, and then stepped fully inside.

It was even stranger than the feeling she'd gotten in the Entrance Hall earlier in the week. Magic didn't just tingle throughout her, it threatened to tear her apart and break her down. _This _was what she missed. Quiet nights, alone, with a bit of light reading. She remembered Ron's mockery of the term, and her smile didn't falter. _Interesting._ She took down a book - _Spellman's Syllabary - _and smiled. She'd be teaching students out of this very book, they'd be learning - from her - what these pages contained. She tucked it under her shoulder, remembering that Minerva had mentioned to her the night previous that professors took their textbooks from the library, she knew that this would be her copy. She also grabbed a copy of _Numerology and Grammatica, Quintessence: A Quest, _and _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 7. _

Sitting down at a desk, flipping open a book - it was such an odd feeling. It was wonderful, really, but also a little frightening - she'd really grown up, since she'd last been here. She was a fully grown adult now, and there was no turning back. She stood to leave, books stacked in her arms, and began to climb the stairs back to her quarters. A few steps up, however, she lost her footing and very nearly dropped her belongings down the stairs - she would have, really, if it hadn't been for them hovering just lower than where she'd dropped them. She knew who it had to be - why would fate be kind to her, on a day when she'd just piled her hair on top of her head in a bun, when she wore jeans and a white tank top down to the library? Harry stood at the top, wand out.

"You dropped something."

"I was about to. Thank you... for stopping it all. It would have all gone downstairs and it would have been terrible stacking them all up again." She placed her hands under the books again, and in a few seconds their familiar weight rested in her arms again. He smiled, tucking his wand into his pocket and waving briefly before continuing on to wherever it was he'd been going.

She wondered why he didn't try to talk to her. Perhaps it was just because he knew that she needed time. Lots of it.

* * *

><p>"Esteemed staff, welcome. We've got a busy year ahead of us and I have a few important announcements to make, so if we could get this over as quickly as possible so I can get some decent sleep before the students arrive, I'd be eternally grateful. Now..."<p>

Their second (and Hermione's first) official staff meeting was held on the last night before the students arrived on the Hogwarts Express. The collective staff group was seated around a large, round table in a staff room on the dungeon level, farther down the hall than the potions classroom. Everyone was in attendance, and everyone looked either dreadfully tired or dreadfully anxious - or, a mixture of both. Hermione had been writing lesson plans well into the early hours of the morning, and to spend all day finishing last preparations to be stuck in a _bloody meeting _was probably actually going to kill her. Maybe.

"Firstly, I'd like to welcome Hermione Granger - former student and newest member of our staff." Harry was the only one who clapped, and he stopped as quickly as he started when he heard that he was the only one.

"Second, plans have just been made for the Triwizard Tournament." A collective gasp went around the room, and some of the older staff and those who had witnessed the last one, began whispering.

"Quiet now, please. The length of the tournament is going to be much shorter this year - four months only. It will not continue until June like tournaments have done in the past. The Ministry has decided to give this one last shot, and has asked for your full enthusiasm and cooperation."

Hermione couldn't help it - she glanced back down the table to Harry. Where moments before he'd been leaning on the table on his elbows, that stupid half-grin on his face and those new glasses framing those insane green eyes, now he was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed tight. She remembered what had happened when he was a Triwizard Champion. Everyone did. And of course, it still scarred him. What didn't? She felt a little pang of sympathy for him, and it vanished quickly - he looked up, almost sensing her eyes on him, and she turned away as fast as possible. He'd caught her staring.

McGonagall went on to announce the usual things she said every year - things about organizing classes, about accepting NEWT students, about the feast the next day and the early curfew that first night, so that the students could rest well. Their meetings would be held every week - Hermione mentally took note that yes, she'd have to sit through one of these weekly. And no, she wouldn't enjoy it. The meeting came to a close and Hermione was first out of the room, bent on returning to her quarters as quickly as possible.

"Professor Granger, could I have a word?"

McGongall had stuck her head back out the door just before she'd rounded the corner. Blast. She was almost free, to sleep, to plan...

"Of course, Headmistress." Stepping back into the classroom, she very nearly ran into Harry, who sidestepped just in time.

"After you, 'Mione."

She simply nodded, passing by him and into the now empty meeting chambers.

"You wanted a word, Headmistress?"

"I am unsure of whether or not Harry warned you that Professor Flitwick..." She gestured to a corner of the room where Filius had been standing by quietly. She hadn't seen him, because of his stature, and he noticed this, waving slightly. "Is the head of Ravenclaw. This will be his last year as a professor, and he's unsure if he can handle the responsibility involved. Do you think you could handle that?"

Head of _Ravenclaw? _She supposed it was only fitting - the intelligence, and whatnot. She'd almost been placed in Ravenclaw herself. What could it hurt?

"Of course, I'd love to. Anything to make it... easier on the rest of you."

McGonagall nodded, dismissing Filius, and then beckoned to Hermione.

"Dear, I'd like to talk to you about a few things - namely, Harry."

"Of course. What's your concern?"

"He's been... Harry is quite a bit different than he was when he was a student here, as I'm sure you know. I'm aware of the fact that previous to last week, the two of you hadn't spoken in years. I am of course aware, mostly, of what transpired in the years before that. But I don't know if you're aware of just how hard the full force of everything hit Harry. He ruined things for you, but he suffered consequences as well - perhaps worse than you know. Have you spoken to him?"

"Not yet. I... I'll admit, I'm scared."

"Hermione, this is not the time to be afraid. The students arrive tomorrow, and I cannot have any outstanding bad feelings between the two of you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Which office is he in now?"

"Filius' old Charms classroom. He can't get up the stairs anymore... I'm sure you don't need reminding."

"I remember exactly where it is. I'll go... I'll see him. Tonight."

"Good thinking. And Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Try to go a little easy on the poor man. He's had a rough decade."

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. She wasn't exactly going to go _easy _on him - but a few days of wondering about Harry and noticing that he never got any mail was enough for her to make a few deductions. Firstly, that he had gotten a little quieter - more serious. Secondly that he had indeed gotten taller and slightly more muscular - more like a man than the boy she'd known. And thirdly, that he was just as alone as she was. And that was, perhaps, the thing that boggled her the most. He was _Harry Potter, The Chosen One_, for Merlin's sake. He should be getting letters, from friends or admirers or whoever. Things should be good for him. But perhaps, in the last few years, he'd been living as miserable and solitary a life as she had.

* * *

><p>"I suppose apologies are in order."<p>

"I've already apologized."

"I wasn't... I wasn't talking about you."

Harry sat down his quill. Alright, now things were getting interesting. He'd heard her coming from down the hall - after knowing her for nearly twenty years - Merlin, had it really been that long? - he recognized even the sound of her footsteps down the stone-floored hallways. He'd continued writing only for pretense's sake - he didn't want to look like he knew she'd been coming. Though, of course, he knew she'd show up at some point tonight anyway - McGonagall had warned him. She was rather meddlesome this year...

"Okay. And?"

"And Harry, I just... I don't know how things have been for you. And maybe I looked at things so one-sided because that was all I let myself see - what you'd done to me."

"You have no idea."

"I know. You don't... you don't either."

"What do you mean by that, Hermione?"

"A lot of things. We'll discuss that in a minute. What I'm trying to say, Harry, is that I'm sorry for yelling at you, and I'm sorry for blaming it all on you. You weren't the only person involved, and as professional adults, coworkers - as friends - I wanted to apologize. I won't say I hope there are no hard feelings, because of course there are. We haven't spoken in years."

"Mhmm. Hermione, take a seat. I'm going to tell you my story, then you're going to tell me yours. I want to know everything, because I'm going to tell you everything - leave nothing out. We owe each other at least that."

She nodded, folding her hands in her lap - something he knew she always did when listening to someone talk about things that had happened to them. She turned into the psychiatrist, sitting back in her chair and observing. Harry, however, knew that he was going to turn the tables on her later... it was only a matter of how and when.

"I'd loved you since we were just school children. It had grown from a crush, developing over fourth year, to a near obession in sixth, and then the hunt for horcruxes... you were always there. Then that kiss, the summer after the war... I thought I finally had you. But awkwardness and Ron and Ginny got in our ways. And things just... took their courses. When you came over that night - eyes swollen from crying, upset, and then later absolutely drunk, as was I - I wasn't trying to ruin your life. You'd just been... slipping away from me, all these years. Right out from under me - almost literally, I might add. And whenever we got together, whenever we did things, I just... I felt like I had you. Even if it was just for the night."

It was Harry's turn to bite his lip and look away. His brows knitted themselves together over his nose, he twitched a bit. "And then finally, we decided that hey, we actually have feelings for each other. But in reality, we think we love our other people more. There was that one last night. I remember it like it was yesterday, I thought about storing the memory for a pensieve but decided against it. Too awkward. Would you like to see it, Hermione?"

"No. I... I remember it perfectly."

"You remember us, in your flat. You kissed me in your kitchen, lead me down your hallway and against the wall. You took me into your bed - you and _Ron's _bed. And we made love, one last time. We got interrupted, there was a terrible amount of screaming, and then..."

"And then we fought. And we didn't see each other anymore. And I had to talk to you about something, but you didn't want to see me. So I left town. I ran off, didn't use magic for six years, about. And then out of the blue, I get your letter."

"And do you know what I did in that time?"

"I don't have any idea. That's why I'm here to apologize." She blinked, straight faced and serious as ever. Hermione was always known as the brains of the operation, and now it was being proven - if only slightly - that knowledge doesn't always mean perfect emotional control. He could practically _feel _her nervousness.

"Well, after my wife left me - Ginny, of course - I lived on my own for a bit. Didn't touch_ my_ wand for a year. Went to Romania, spent some time with Charlie - who thought, in all honesty, that you and I should have been together anyway. Came back, and within a year got the letter from McGonagall. I've been the only professor to last more than a year teaching my subject since they turned Riddle down - as I'm sure you know."

"I know all of it, Harry. You know that."

"I don't talk to Ron anymore, or Ginny. I keep in contact with Charlie, occasionally write to Molly and Arthur. George is still running shop, Ron is working with him a lot now I hear - learning more of the business side, which he's apparently good at."

"Surprise, surprise. Good for him."

"And mostly, I just keep to myself. Neville comes around to visit - he may be taking over Herbology next year if Sprout becomes Headmistress. We all know it's the one thing he really, really excels at. He's been traveling, studying... he's grown up a lot."

"I'd love to see Neville. I still feel bad for using _petrificus totalus _on him back in first year."

"He'll come by, I'm sure. He's usually here within the first month. Stays for a day or two, works on the greenhouses."

"Hmm. Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"My turn."

"Besides not using magic for six years, what happened since that night that is worth mentioning?"

"I'm sure you remember the night I showed up at your flat."

"Yeah. You seemed... panicked. But..."

"But what?"

"Ginny was there."

Oh. _She _had been the company he'd had over. Apparently, they'd married shortly after. According to his story, they divorced just as soon. Hermione wondered inwardly if it was because of the affair. She sighed. She wasn't really prepared to tell Harry this story - it wasn't one she was particularly fond of. But if anyone deserved to know - both to reward and to punish - it was Harry.

"I came to see you because I had something very important to tell you. It's... Harry, please promise you won't freak out."

"I can't make that promise."

"I was pregnant. The baby was yours."

His heart dropped into his toes. In his twenty-seven years of life - battling evil, doing whatever it is he did - he'd never received a blow so hard. "I see. I... wow."

He hadn't been expecting that. They'd usually been pretty careful - a missed spell or lack of contraception now and then, but they apparently had only gotten lucky up until the end. She was pregnant. But then... where was the child? He could have a son or daughter out there, she'd be walking and talking like a... like a tiny person, now.

"What happened?"

"The night I came to see you, I was highly distraught. I had just been to see the doctor that afternoon, and he'd confirmed the conception date - seven weeks previous. At a time where I hadn't slept with Ron in weeks, months maybe. It had to be yours. I came to tell you that, to try and... I don't know. Change things? I wasn't sure. I just knew that if things didn't work out there, I was going to leave. You turned me away. Told me I was being a nutter, and that you couldn't - wouldn't - talk to me then. Was it a..."

"A front? For Ginny? Yes."

"That front cost us a child."

He tried to understand what she was saying, but couldn't. "What are you talking about?"

"You turned me away, and I was so upset, I... I wasn't watching where I was going. I figured that you hated me, and I had this perfect little part of us inside me that could have changed everything - and I was convinced, after that, that you didn't want me - or our baby. Even though you didn't know about it. I was going down the stairs, and I wasn't watching where I was going, I..."

Tears fell. He was not prepared for this, was not prepared to hear this. He knew exactly where this was going, and it was sickening, he was disgusted with himself for turning her away, for turning his back on her - she was his best friend in the world, his lover, his other half, the mother of his... of his _child._ A child that would have been his. That they could have raised together. And it was his fault...

"Harry, I..."

"Stop. Please." His voice cracked on the last word, and it was his turn to cry a little. He summoned a box of tissues, setting it on the desk between them. Each tried to calm themselves for a minute or two before shaking their heads and taking a few deep breaths.

"Hermione, I didn't know, I... I feel like shit for turning you away then. I had no idea, and I should have listened to you then, and..."

"Stop. I know. I know you should have. But you didn't - and that made all the difference. I'm here, Harry, for Hogwarts - not for you. Part of me will always love you, sisterly or otherwise, I'm not sure. But now that you know... can you understand why this has been haunting me so terribly for the last few years?"

"I do. I really do. I..."

"That's all I needed to hear." She stood, turning towards the door. "I don't want bitterness. I don't want awkwardness, though that is sure to follow this latest revelation. The students have an early curfew tomorrow and I've been assigned the first patrol. You should come with me. We'll... we'll talk a little more. And then I want you to leave me alone for a while. Just... let me be, Harry."

"I... okay."

He had no choice. This was what was best for both of them, he knew. But he didn't have to like it...

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm really so terribly sorry. I regret... every bad thing I ever did to you."

She smiled, a rather sad sort of smile that lingered a little too long on her face. "Oh, Harry. Everything you did was... wonderful. You made me feel loved like no one else did. You would have fathered my child. You only wanted _me_, and I wouldn't let you have me. That was my mistake. Your only mistake was turning me away when I came back to find you." She nodded once, whispered a low goodnight, and shut the door softly behind her.

Harry, finally alone, allowed himself to cry again for the first time in four years - for the first time since he'd last seen her. He silently thanked the powers-that-be for reminding him to buy a box of tissues that week at the market, and he did not get a wink of sleep until the sun had nearly begun to rise - his thoughts were consumed with that of Hermione, and of their child that could have been.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: This story is slowing down too fast. Gotta pick it up. Annnnnnd here we go! Review.  
><strong>

The Head Table was full, except for two seats. The missing professors in question were not very far, at least. Hermione Granger stood towards the back of the room, examining the table to see who the missing professor would be, and looking through the throngs of new students to see if she spotted younger siblings of anyone she'd gone to school with. There were a few, not a great number, but enough. She'd been officially named Head of House for Ravenclaw that morning, etching her fate of a stressed, tired, and confused Professor into stone. There really was no going back now - especially since the staff had happened to arrange themselves so that Hermione and Harry - the other missing professor - would be sitting directly next to each other. She'd gotten up to use the restroom as soon as sorting had ended, with a promise to McGonagall that she'd return to the table in time for her speech, to introduce Hermione.

Brilliant.

She took a deep breath and walked the length of the Great Hall carefully, looking out for Harry. He was just across the room, walking down the center aisle towards the same destination. He noticed her staring and nodded politely. His eyes were red - he'd been crying, and she thought she probably knew why. She'd revealed to him the secret of her pregnancy. She'd told him everything - the reason she'd disappeared in the first place. One day, she'd tell him the reason she'd _stayed _away - but that was news for another day. She'd given him enough shock to last, oh, a lifetime.

They met on one side of the table, and like the true gentleman he'd been in their past (at times), he gestured for her to go first. She chose the seat that would also put her beside Headmistress McGonagall, instead of next to a professor she didn't recognize. Awkward chit chat with a stranger would not be nearly as relieving as a good talk with Minerva. Harry even pulled out her chair, but as soon as they were seated again Minerva stood, quieting the room before her.

"Students young and old, returning and new - welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This marks what historians have recently discovered to believe to be the one-thousandth anniversary of the opening of Hogwarts. We will celebrate it accordingly."

A round of applause shook the Great Hall. McGonagall quieted them again.

"This year holds many changes for Hogwarts as a school, and for you as it's students - we will, for a last trial run, be hosting the Triwizard Tournament. Details on this will be announced later this week at Dinner. There are changes in staff, as well. Our previous professors of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes have retired or changed occupations - and so we welcome Hermione Granger, member of the Golden Trio..."

Before she could even finish speaking, there were students cheering, standing, whistling. Oh, _Merlin _she'd never get used to that. In the six years that she'd abandoned the wizarding world, she'd just been plain _Hermione _, not this war hero everyone here saw. She smiled, stood, and waved briefly. McGonagall gave her own clap into the mix and continued.

"Well, very well then... she'll be teaching Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and NEWT level Charms. And knowing Miss Granger, if eight months in a tent with two stubborn boys and no food didn't break her, her fight remains - don't push your luck!" This prompted a laugh from various members of the staff and a few students. She was going to be just like that, too. She wasn't going easy on anyone. Not students, not Harry, not even herself.

* * *

><p>"Why'd you ask me to come talk to you if you refuse to talk?"<p>

She said nothing. She wasn't really sure either, but Harry followed her still. She'd asked him, the night previous, to accompany her on night duty so that she might be able to better explain what had been happening in her head over the last six years; so that she could explain the huge contrast between the wizarding world she'd been forced into since she was a child, and the relatively pleasant and boring muggle world she'd left and then chosen again. She couldn't find words to form what she thought. She couldn't even find the words to tell him how he was still upset with him, and would be for a very long time.

"Hermione, I just... want to know. Everything."

The last word struck a nerve. Everything? The words came quickly.

"You really want to know everything, Harry? I hate the wizarding world. Not as a whole, not really. I loved it, when I first came into it. Though it was forced, though I knew I sort of _had _to be here, I loved every moment of it. For once, I wasn't the odd one out - I mean, I was still odd - being as bloody _brilliant _as I am, I stick out everywhere. But despite a few people picking on me, I made friends - you, and Ron, and Luna, Neville, Fred and George... you were my world, the lot of you. I loved you all like I could never describe. We got older, and I just seemed to fit in more and more as time went on. I felt like _I knew _this was where I was supposed to be. War hero. Friend. Lover.

"Then after the war, we were under such scrutiny. I couldn't go anywhere without someone taking a picture. Except your flat - which I did, a little too often. I admit now that yes, my frequent visits, my definite willingness to go along with everything that happened, was my effort into everything. But I had no idea what would come of it! Nobody did!"

She was frantic now, and he simply nodded, waiting for more. He'd needed to hear these words, these comparisons - he'd been waiting all day. He'd been convincing himself for years that if he heard this, it would make things clearer to him. About how he felt, and she felt, and about the violent, angry breakdown that had killed a decade of friendship and love and camaraderie. Now he was hearing it, what he'd been wanting, and all he wanted to do was run. Hearing the transition from Hermione belonging to subsequently turning herself into a pariah was not easy. He'd never thought badly of her. Well, there were times, but... it was nothing compared to the near hate she'd voiced about him. She nearly despised him, and for once, after hearing what she'd said last night - he understood.

"So we cheated, and we... we _fucked_ and it was _brilliant _and I couldn't help myself. I'm a terrible person for it, fine. Go ahead, condemn me, everyone else did. Everyone found out... and then I found out about the pregnancy.

"I thought that even if you rejected me - even if you'd hated me - I'd still have this perfect little piece of what we had. I'd have a child - a daughter or a son, with your eyes and your messy hair and my smarts and your sense of humor - and even if things went bad, it would know who it's father was - and that his father was off doing important things I guess, saving the world again or something... I wouldn't have you. But I'd have our _child._ I'd convinced myself, by this point, that I was ready - if you'd turned me away, I could have walked away quietly, and lived on. But something hit me, when you wouldn't even let me in... it broke me. I fell. The rest is, unfortunately and fortunately both, _history. _I went back to the muggle world because even if it wasn't the one place I felt like I belonged, it was the one place where my anonymity was great enough that _nobody _would know who the _fuck _I was. And _that_, Harry, is everything."

She turned to look at him. He was crying again, and he'd stopped walking. She still hadn't even told him everything... and he was finally realizing what had happened. How she'd felt, how she'd been totally alienated by an entire world of people.

"Her-Hermione... I can't.. stop it!"

"That's not even all of it! One day, Harry, you'll know the full extent to which you've hurt me. Yes, I played a part in it too, but this last bit is the real kicker because even three years later, after having left the wizarding world behind, you could _still _hurt me."

He nodded. He had finished crying, wiping his eyes on his sleeves like a child. She'd missed this innocence in him. He had suffered, obviously, but he also had not realized the extent of _her _suffering. She put a hand on the back of his arm, leading him forward.

"This year is going to be remarkably tough on the both of us, Harry. But I think that, given the circumstances, we could be a lot more _angry _with each other. We're _upset_, and we're both very very _sad_, but that can be fixed, somehow. I came here to save Hogwarts, and also a little bit to save myself. Now that I'm here, now that I've seen that this has hurt you, too... maybe we can work on saving both of us."

He couldn't help it. He slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her in for a hug. He'd wanted to do so desperately since he'd first seen her again in her flat, and hadn't had the courage - which had probably been a good thing. His hands slid up her back, curling his fingers around her shoulders - he could only do this now that he'd grown taller, she'd seemed to have gotten shorter. Long arms surrounded her and she had no willpower to deny them. She let her own arms rest lightly on his shoulders, clasping her hands behind his head.

"I'm so... so sorry, Hermione."

"And I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have blamed this all on you." It was her turn to weep silently now. She'd missed being close to him, _so much. _

"Well, maybe not all of it, but I did deserve a little. I walked into that closet..."

She laughed a little, pulling her head back to look at him. He kissed her forehead, because he felt like it, and she could feel her cheeks flush. She'd missed that, too. She'd subsequently hated and missed every single bit of him - and no matter what anyone else said, she didn't think another person on the entire planet had had such conflicting emotions about one person, one situation. She was drained, it was ten-thirty.

"Come on, Harry. Tell me what you've been... doing. I have to do one more round before bed."

He didn't dare hug her again before they said goodnight, he only smiled and grabbed her hand briefly.

He also didn't dare tell her that just like every night for the last seven, eight, or nine years, that he'd see her face in his dreams and in his nightmares, haunting him from feet or from miles away.

* * *

><p>"You told the students." She heard him, muffled through the thick wooden door. He knocked twice, waited for her okay, and entered.<p>

Her cheeks burned. Yes, she had. She hadn't gotten through her very first lesson without questions from the students about the war, about her and Harry. How they knew about any of it, she wasn't sure, but she'd instructed each class to put their books away and to ask about anything they wished that day. She'd answer honestly. And then the next class, they'd get to work. She had to do it tomorrow, too, though she doubted that her discussions hadn't spread like wildfire - children were curious, as always.

"I did."

"What all did you tell them?"

"What they needed to hear. About the war. About how we defeated Voldemort. A little vague description of Horcruxes - nothing that would give anyone ideas. I twisted it a little so that even if one of them was curious, they wouldn't be able to find information."

"Good."

"Mhmm. Why do you care?"

"They never asked me."

She thought this peculiar - it was _Harry Potter, _The Chosen One, Boy-Who-Lived Potter. He had _everything _to do with it - but they hadn't asked him these things? He seemed to answer for her.

"I think they're just excited about two of us being here - I think they were afraid to just ask me. When I got here I was... not the most cheerful professor they'd ever met."

"Oh."

"Hermione? I think it's just that... I don't know. A student asked me a question today... one of the older students. She saw something in the papers, back when everything... happened. I'm pretty sure that at least a few of them - or their parents - have pieced it together."

_Excellent. _So her students, and their parents, knew of the infamous affair, the running away, everything. Lovely.

"Oh."

"Do you have anything to say, other than _Oh?" _

"No. I don't believe I do." She smiled slightly. This had been a game of theirs, once. The smile fell - even remembering the _best_ of times was still painful. She saw Harry's small grimace too, and sighed. He stepped closer into her office - something she hadn't expected him to do in the slightest - and leaned on his palms on the desk.

"Hermione. It's... they want to know."

"They know enough."

"Not about us. About Voldemort. They'll barely ask me about that, on my own. I'm... I don't like talking about it. I still have nightmares."

"Do you want... _me_ to talk about it?"

"You already did, a little. I just thought..."

"No. Harry, that's... probably a good idea. I'm new, but it'll give them a chance to... get to know me. Know us. Trust us."

"Good. Thank you. I'll... do you want to do it in classes, or?"

"Yes. I'll cancel my classes officially for the week and hold open seminars for those who want to stay. The rest can start work on their other classes."

"Are you sure McGonagall is going to allow that?"

Hermione tilted her head, raising her brows. If sarcasm had a face, it was this. Harry laughed - a sound that hit the very center of her being. She was so busy enjoying it that she didn't catch the first part of his sentence.

"...Hero. Not a problem."

"Mhmm."

His laugh had changed - gotten deeper. What was it about this new, grown-up Harry that affected her like it did? Young Harry had too, but... perhaps it was the tension between them. Neither knowing exactly what to do here. They'd known each other so well - inch by inch, so painfully intimately - for nine, ten years. Now it had been years in between just _seeing _each other. They were still the same people, but they'd gone through drastic changes. She remembered their walk from the night before, and decided to keep it tucked away in her memory. Allowing that to happen had been foolish - and she wouldn't let it happen again. Yet. Even though she really, desperately wanted it to.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I join you? I... classes are hard to settle in the first week. If you want to do the talking, take it all, but I could try a little... and I could listen. I've heard the story over and over again from the media, from strangers, but never... never from someone who's been there. I don't really know entirely... what it was like, for you."

"The war, or... more?"

"Beginning to end."

"Oh."

"I mean, of course I know more now, but... what was it like, when Ron left us in the forest? What was it like, having to sit so close to Umbridge for so long in that courtroom? What was it like, picking up your wand again for the first time? Apparating again for the first time? Did you ever have anyone that recognized you?"

"Perhaps you should sit in on the discussions... but those last parts, I just... I'm not ready to talk about yet. They're still too recent. A month ago I was sitting in my flat with Chinese takeout watching bad movies on television, alone. Hell, I was doing that two _weeks _ago. Now I'm here - my magic is rusty, my wand gets confused, I think. I just... can't talk about it yet. The wound is... too fresh. It's only just begun healing."

He nodded, removing his hands from the desk. She could see that after their talk last night, he was not afraid, as he'd seemed - he was just increasingly curious, he wanted to know even more. Perhaps he was torturing himself with the information - and he should, rightfully so.

"I'm going to... I'll be here tomorrow. First class. I won't be late."He slowly stumbled backwards towards her door.

"You, not late to class? Doubtful."

"That will always stay the same, 'Mione. Always." He smiled, shutting her door behind him.

If he was going to keep leaving her so uneasy every time, she would be dead by next week. These jumps in her heart, the twisting in her stomach, the actual stabbing pain in her head and in her chest when he simply _smiled_ at her - it was probably lethal. She'd have to do some research.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Okay, I'm about to make a huge continuity/canon error right here... and you're all just going to deal with it. Hermione and Harry are 27, making it nine and a half years since the war, making Teddy Lupin about ten years old... HOWEVER, I needed a familiar student, and he's going to fit the build. So yes, he'll be in the fic. It'll be explained in the chapter. **

Hermione woke with a start. Her night had been filled with nightmares, visions of a small child with auburn hair and electric green eyes, freckles across the nose - a small girl. Curly hair, a devilishly cute grin. And then she'd disintegrated, right into sand. Or fallen off a cliff. Or sank in an ocean that Hermione had found herself unable to cross. The girl was no more than four, and obviously her mind's vision of what their child could have been. Each time before the child disappeared, she spoke only one line, soft as a whisper but always audible, across such great distances.

_He hasn't told you everything. _

Sometimes she'd smile before disappearing from sight. And Hermione would always call out to the girl, frantically.

"Who? Who hasn't told me? Your father? What hasn't he told me?" She never got an answer. Laying in bed in a cold sweat, her hair plastered to her head, chest heaving. She hadn't had a nightmare in months. She sat up, attempting to take a deep breath and slow down her shallow breathing. Her bedsheets were a mess, her pillow was halfway across the room - she'd never slept like that. Of course, it probably had something to do with Harry. But did she believe what the girl had said?

_He hasn't told you everything. _

She decided to wait and see. If there was more, he'd probably tell her eventually. Upon showering, dressing, and heading down for a bite to eat, Hermione realized that students would be arriving in less than eight hours. It had been nine years since the war, and ten years since she'd seen these halls filled with children, most of them ready to learn. She had some planning left to do. Hopefully it would distract her from the image of the girl from her nightmares in her head.

* * *

><p><em>"UNCLE HARRY!" <em>Before he could react, a small boy was squeezing him round the waist, still screaming.

"Uncle Harry, I'm here! I got to go!" Upon closer inspection, Harry noticed the boys hair - it seemed to be moving, changing slightly. Watching it for a moment, he noticed the hair change from auburn to brown to black and then to a familiar shade of Turquoise. Teddy.

"Ted, what are you doing here? You're not supposed to come until next year!"

"Dumbledore came and talked to Grandma! About the Ministry! And their letters! He says they should probably take me early so I don't blow the house up or something!"

It wasn't unlikely. Harry had heard the stories in a few letters back and forth with Andromeda - Teddy was showing immense amounts of magical potential more and more frequently, something that may have been influenced by the mixed blood of his parents - a metamorphmagus mother and a were father. At nine, he'd levitated himself high enough above his house to fall and break both arms. Now, apparently at ten, he'd be the first student to be admitted early in decades. Harry was going to have his hands full, with his godson running through the halls of Hogwarts. Though Teddy lived with Andromeda, Harry was second on paper to be his legal guardian. Andromeda knew she wouldn't last much longer. Harry was prepared to take the boy when the time came - as Sirius would have done for him, if he could have.

"How exciting! I'm assuming you got your school things in time?"

"Most of them, yeah. Grandma sent me with a few galleons to take care of the rest of it, quills and such... she said you'd be able to get them for me?"

"I can. Yeah, I'll take a trip into Hogsmeade tonight after dinner. How've you done without them the last few days of classes? I'm so excited that you're here, Teddy, someone else very important to me is here too, I'd really like for you to meet her tonight... you'll like her a lot. She won't be one of your professors this year, but in a few years, if you're as smart as she is, she can be if you want."

"Is she your girlfriend, Uncle Harry?"

"No, she's not my girlfriend... she's just someone that I care about very much. A very old friend of mine. I know your Grandma told you everything about the war, and who was with me?"

"Yeah, loads of times. She told me all about your friends Ron and Hermione..."

"Well that's who's here. Hermione."

"No way!"

Harry heard the feminine voice over his shoulder and jumped. "Yes, Teddy. That would be me."

Harry turned to stand next to Hermione, who had walked up behind him to talk to himself and Teddy. She'd come out of nowhere, and of course he'd been talking about her...

"Wow! Grandma told me all about you, and how you went everywhere with Uncle Harry, and..."

"Of course she did. Your grandma told that story almost as much as the papers did, at the time. You were just a baby."

"I know! And my mom and dad were there too and that's why they aren't alive anymore... I miss them even though I didn't really know them." Teddy's sweet, sad smile took the breath from both Harry and Hermione. Tonks and Remus had been fierce, incredible fighters - and both had lost their lives in the battle. Teddy's smile turned even farther upward, though, and his hair went back to black, an almost pitch black like Harry's.

"I'm really excited for Hogwarts, Uncle Harry. And Hermione. I'm in Gryffindor, that's where my dad was, but Hufflepuff wouldn't have been too bad, that's where mom was... I'm probably not smart enough for Ravenclaw anyway. And I would have jumped into the lake to be eaten by the Giant Squid if I were in Slytherin."

There was a voice amplified through the hall, and began to enter the hall for dinner. Teddy turned to run and join them, and only got a few feet before tripping, thrashing violently for a moment, and then landing flat on his bum.

"I'm okay!" Several other students laughed and clapped, cheering him as he stood. He gave Harry one last wave and was lost in the crowd.

Harry could see Hermione shake her head out of the corner of her eye. "Teddy? At Hogwarts?"

"Yeah. He's a... he's not the neatest person, as you can tell. Disheveled robes. Can't walk without falling. The whole morphing thing..."

"What ever came of the half-were thing?"

"He transforms, but only slightly. Just gets really hairy and a little excited. Hungry for steaks and whatnot. McGonagall mentioned it a few years ago, we'll have a way to get around it... he's too young for wolfsbane. It's the only way."

"If you need help, Harry... let me know."

She surprised him by smiling slightly, the edges of her mouth curling up into a slight smile. Before he could smile back, she'd stepped forward, pulling her hair back behind her shoulders and heading out to the high table in the Great Hall.

* * *

><p>Her semi-dramatic exit, however, would be fruitless - upon entering the hall, Hermione realized that the seat reserved for her was just beside the only other seat open on the table - for Harry. She'd missed a dinner or two in the past week, and hadn't remembered they'd been sitting together. She took in a deep breath and sat. She'd faced more awkward dinners before. She could handle this one. In moments, McGonagall was standing before the collected students, preparing for her to make a few announcements.<p>

"Welcome, Hogwarts students. I can assure you all that this is going to be quite a _magical_ year at Hogwarts, if the past few days of first classes can tell. I have only a few announcements to make before the feast begins. The first is that all new students requiring..."

Harry nudged her slightly. "It's funny sitting up here, isn't it? I still don't get over it. I remember sitting at the Gryffindor table, right over there... and never imagined I'd be sitting here."

"It is a little strange. I'm looking at all the little Ravenclaw students and wondering how I'm going to be head of house for all of them."

"It's not terribly difficult, really." He poked at the bowl of mashed potatoes in front of them. "They come to you with issues, you fix them. And Ravenclaw is the easiest... not only do they fix the problems they have, but they're usually too smart to start problems anyway."

"I see." She pointedly did not look at him at all, choosing instead to switch her attention back and forth between McGonagall and the table of students in blue gear, second from the right. All looked hopeful, happy. Glancing only once at the Gryffindor table, she felt what could only be described as a stabbing pain in her heart. It wasn't just her memories as a student here that made her feel nostalgic, it was the fact that she'd sat there with Ron, as well. They'd been inseparable, the lot of them. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Dean, Seamus, Neville. The twins. Everyone... and what and who was left? Nothing but a few happy memories, all now tarnished by the fact that one in that group was dead, four she hadn't talked to in years, one hated her for stealing Harry, the other hated her for loving Harry, and the last was Potter himself, the awkward little schoolboy with his wiry glasses and slight frame, now taken place by the man beside her.

He noticed her silence and did not say anything for the rest of the meal - not while the Triwizard Tournament was announced, not at all. In fact, the only other time Hermione felt he made his presence obvious was when she remember she was announced last week as the newest member of staff and new Head of Ravenclaw. When the students and other staff all clapped and cheered, it was missed by none that of anyone, Harry clapped the loudest. As this memory played through her head, she was immensely aware of his presence next to her.

* * *

><p>"Timothy Farroway asked me today about what happened between you and I."<p>

"Didn't he come to the open discussions?"

"He did, but we didn't exactly... get too far into that."

"Right. What did you tell him?" Harry bit his lip, not sure what answer he was hoping for.

"I told him that we were just four years older than he is now, and we were making mistakes, but that we don't regret them. He seemed to understand what I meant. He asked if you'd loved me, and if I'd loved you."

"And of course you told him we did."

"I said I loved you, and it was up to you to answer that question."

"Why? You know I loved you."

"But at times, Harry, you clearly didn't act like it. And besides, it's not my bit of information to reveal anyway. That's all yours. He did say, however, that we would have made a nice couple. Cute kids."

"That can't have been easy."

"He barely walked out the door before I started crying."

The following silence was nearly palpable. Both professors, on night patrol, stuck their hands deep into the pockets of their robes, pointedly looking away from each other. The first few days had been angry, explosive - the last five had been awkward, clumsy, and uncomfortable. Hermione had twice attempted to avoid him in the halls, spinning around quickly only to find herself smacking against a wall, or getting semi-lost somewhere in the castle. He always had that _look, _though. Like he still wanted to talk to her. And perhaps he did.

* * *

><p><strong><em>PREVIEW FOR NEXT CHAPTER: <em>**

"Hermione, I haven't told you everything."

Should she even tell him about the dream? She'd had an eerie feeling that the girl from her dreams was correct, and here it was.

"I... I had a dream. A girl, she kept dying. She kept saying 'He hasn't told you everything'. And I knew that meant you."

"I just... it's hard."

"I can imagine. But what is it?"

"There's something I've never admitted to anyone else on this Earth... not even Ginny, when everything went bad. She chucked the ring at me and left. But... that's complicated too. There's only one thing that matters out of all that."

She was nervous now. What was it that he was admitting to? And why?

"I think before I tell you, I should explain that there's a bit more information to it... and I'll get to that. It's... complicated."

She only nodded, folding her arms tighter. This sounded big. What had he been hiding?

"When you ran into Ginny that day at the Market - after everything had happened - she told me you'd make a comment about the ring."

"It was a beautiful ring. And it was on her hand. I was heartbroken, still."

"That's what I'm getting at. Hermione, that ring had been purchased nearly a year and a half previous."

"But you and Ginny weren't even dating then. You and I were still... no."

"Yes, Hermione. That ring..."

"Stop, Harry. Don't, I beg of you please do not say it."

"That ring belonged to you from the second I bought it. I had never intended to marry Ginny Weasley - and I only did so after you made it very clear you never wanted to see me again. I settled for... even less than second best. But that ring was purchased from Waddington's Jewelers one and one half years before you saw it. And it was purchased for you."

An engagement ring. From Harry, to her. This changed things.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry, I've been a shit author. I've been moving, didn't have internet... but I'm back again, and writing when I can. I work now, which sucks, but I do what I can. I've posted an update to Footnotes recently, not as long of a chapter as I could have hoped, and this one wasn't as long as I wanted either, but plenty of new information... I'll be back soon, I assure you. Cheers, and please remember to review!<br>**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: After a shortish absence, I am back again. I feel like I'm getting stuck on this fic. I don't know why - I guess because even I haven't figured out the big twist, yet. Time will tell. Until then, we continue where we left off last time, and towards the end of this chapter, we get the preview from last chapter - and what happened after. Enjoy, cheers, and please remember to review!**

* * *

><p>"Uh... Bobby. Yes?"<p>

"How long did it take to find them? The... Horcruxes?"

"Months. We left in the summer, and the final battle didn't happen until May second. It was a lot of traveling and a lot of... waiting. Planning. The like. Theo?"

"How many were there?"

"Seven - sort of. We thought that meant seven objects, originally. But one was Harry - that was complicated."

"How?"

"When Voldemort killed Professor Potter's parents, he tried to kill your professor, too. But - you know that part of the story - he couldn't. What Voldemort had done, was unknowingly and mistakenly created a seventh Horcrux. A part of his soul was trapped inside your Professor, from the time he was a small child. Then the final battle happened - and Harry realized it just as the rest of us did..."

Anybody watching - including Harry - could see the way her eyes glazed over a little as she began to speak about this time in the war. For the students, this was another war story. Granted, it was the turning point in the biggest war story any of them ever heard about, but still. She seemed to go somewhere far away - or perhaps not so far, to that spot inside the Forbidden Forest, to that empty classroom they'd sat in their Sixth Year, talking about everything that had been going on around them, hurting them both. To Harry's old flat. To the night they were caught. He could practically see it swimming in her eyes.

"Anyway, Harry realized he was going to die. Or so he thought. He went into the forest preparing to sacrifice himself. But that didn't go as planned, either. You see, Voldemort attempted to kill him once more - and only ever destroyed the part of his soul that existed inside Harry - who was still alive. Once he regained consciousness, he was declared 'dead' by a woman whose morals I questioned until the very end - and then brought up to the castle, where he revealed he was still alive. That moment was..."

Her eyes caught him in the back of the room. Her lip trembled slightly. "It was brilliant, is what she means to say. I'd never felt such support, such love from an entire group of people. Hermione - Professor Granger, here, was probably the most enthusiastic when I stood up. She was screaming at the very top of her lungs, and it was her that I looked to first." The room was entirely silent.

The clock whizzed and whirred a little tune in the corner, signaling the end of that day's class. Hermione cleared her throat. "You're all free to go." Harry joined her at the front of the room, while she paced slightly.

"Hermione, are you..."

"These little talks keep filling up more and more. Lessons have been disastrous. Everyone just wants to know about the war."

"So we'll tell them. It's still only been a few years, people still don't know everything... and sixth and seventh years are definitely mature enough to handle the content."

"Are they?"

"Well, I mean, we were their age when it happened - and we were the ones involved."

"That's true. Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you... can you leave? I need some time. I just need to think."

He nodded, exiting her classroom as quickly as possible. What he didn't know, however was that Hermione spent the next seven minutes between classes wondering what life would have been like - better or worse - if Harry had been dead after all. On one hand, they never would have been caught cheating, she'd have been content with Ron forever. On the other... she'd have never felt her heart jump so wildly as it had with him, and would have never realized that true happiness. She was at a loss for logic. She'd think about it another day. The next class of students was beginning to trickle in - one last talk about the war. One last little seminar - and then regular classes could begin again, and she could put the whole thing behind her and focus on the studies of her students.

"Students, please take a seat wherever you'd like... this is the last of the seminars on the war, so think carefully about any questions you may have left. After this, we go back to classes on regular topics, and I will probably not personally discuss the war with you after this." They filed in, every seat filled - not a single student had chosen to miss that seminar. This was both good and bad news. Her classroom had a full sixty desks, one of the largest in the castle, and from the looks of it, a few students were now ditching their other classes to attend this last seminar. Something was wrong. Something was going to _go _wrong. Thank Merlin Harry wasn't going to be here to witness it.

In less than a minute, the room was completely silent. She'd never seen such a quiet room of teenagers. This should have been sign number two. Only one student would look at her - a seventh year Slytherin girl, one Hermione had quickly picked out for being a strong leader of not only students in her house, but in others as well. She was Head Girl, and somewhat friendly - it almost surprised Hermione that the girl was in Slytherin - she definitely had a Gryffindor complex, and her boyfriend was in Gryffindor, as well.

"P-professor?"

"Liza."

"The whole lot of us has shown up today."

"I can tell. It seems nearly every seventh year and a large number of sixth years are here. May I ask why?"

"Well... there's a question we've all been wanting to ask. But nobody else would do it. So naturally..."

"Naturally you grabbed the bull by the horns, and you're all gathered here today to ask me that last question so that I can answer it and relieve all of you of whatever nervous panic you've set yourselves into?"

The girl blinked. "Exactly. But we've got other questions, too. Like what the Horcruxes were. And your relationship with Ron Weasley. And his sister. And what happened to students here at Hogwarts while the three of you were off finding Horcruxes, and the rest of it We've been relatively tame with our questions - Pete says it's because we've been testing you, and I have to agree." Her boyfriend beside her - the Gryffindor who was supposed to be in Potions right now - nodded.

"And furthermore, professor..."

"I'll answer your questions."

"Right. Thank you. Answer away. We'll bring up the last bit last."

She had thirty minutes - a short class - to describe everything. And so she did - with this oldest group, the most curious, she described the entire painful story of the war. Of the loss, the heartbreak, the drama, the anticipation, the worry, the all encompassing fear. She delved into freezing cold nights in the tent after Ron left, half starving with Harry. She paused briefly to go over their break in at Gringotts. There was even a mention of the then-current bad centaur-ministry relations, the opinions of house elves, and Hagrid's giant brother. The students listened, completely wrapped up in the story she told and the pictures she painted. With ten minutes left to go, she found herself out of material. She'd already told them everything else. Some already looked close to tears. One girl had actually screamed. Even the boys looked tense, as if they'd all rather be hiding under their blankets or writing a letter home to mum. Hermione was nearly shaking - that was the most in depth she'd been about the war since the month or two just after it had happened.

Liza cleared her throat, obviously shaken. Maybe it was a slight lack of courage that had kept her from being sorted into Gryffindor.

"Professor... there's one more thing."

"What else is left? I've told you all about the war - about searching the countries, about the politics, about the friends and the battle and the scars..."

"But you haven't told us about... about you and Professor Potter."

There was silence. Hermione inwardly cursed herself. How could she have been so foolish as to think that the students wouldn't think to ask about that? It had been a few years since the war, but not long enough that all of the students that had been there, were already gone. She realized quickly that students sitting in that very classroom had not only been old enough to remember the fear, but also the headlines and drama afterwards. Of course they'd know about her divorce from Ron. Of course they'd know that she had disappeared. But there was one thing they knew, that she didn't.

"D'you know how long he looked for you, after the war? Professor, our parents talked about it for nearly a year afterwards. You disappeared that night, and Professor Potter posted adverts, quit his job... he spent a year searching for you. And really... I don't think he ever stopped."

That explained more. He had found her - she could tell, there was just this feeling about it. Harry had found her, after she'd left. But he'd left her alone. He'd let her be, when he'd been looking for her for a year. But why?

"What we're asking, Professor..." Peter, Liza's boyfriend, was now speaking, scratching his head nervously. "Is what happened between you and Professor Potter. It's just... we're curious. And obviously it's... still affecting you now. We're not children."

"What happened between Harry Potter and I is not something that should be discussed..."

"We know you had an affair. Practically everyone knows. And Ron Weasley and you split. And Ginny tried to stay with him for a while, but in the end she left him too. He'd nearly gone mad, you know?"

Hermione could feel tears brimming. "No. I didn't know." How had he nearly gone mad? Why hadn't he admitted this before?

"He said, in the Prophet one time - that he'd look for you until he found you. About a year later he stopped looking. The whole world practically knew that he knew where you were, what you were up to... but that he wasn't telling anyone. There was a reason you left, Professor - and he knew that. And he let you stay, instead of going after you. I think that's... more than any of us could ever do for someone we loved. No offense, Liza."

"None taken. Professor... he could have tried to get you back. He could have tried to be yours again. But he let you be."

She couldn't handle this. Since when had it turned from the students learning, to Hermione herself learning? This was almost too much. She couldn't handle it. It was Harry, reckless, stupid Harry, and yet... he'd let her have her peace. Like he knew she deserved it, or something.

"Professor, we..."

"Out. Get out. Now. _Please _go." The students stared at her back, heaving heavily.

"Professor, are you alright?"

"Just leave, all of you. Get to your classes, or your common rooms. Immediately. Leave." In seconds, the room was empty again, and as soon as the door shut behind the last set of black school robes, Hermione let herself cry harder than she believed she ever had before.

* * *

><p>Only a few minutes pass before there's a knock at the door. She hears a female voice - McGonagall.<p>

"I'm not asking for reasons, Granger, I'm just making sure you're alright."

"I'm... I'm not. Not now. I need time. They just... the students knew more than I did. He looked for me! Searched for me for an entire year. And he... he _found _me. When no one else was looking. He found me and... he just let me be. He let me live, away from him, away from magic. Because... he knew I needed my space? I don't know!"

"I'll leave you with your thoughts, Miss Granger... but you should... ah. There he is now."

"Who? He who?"

"Hermione? Open up. Please." Harry. Of course. She should have known.

"Not now, Harry, I just..."

"Just for a moment. Please. Liza came and found me - Liza and Peter. They told me what they told you. They... I don't think they knew you didn't know. I don't think they knew just how separate you were from this world."

That was true. The children knew nothing, really, and she'd snapped at them pretty badly. But then... Harry hadn't told her this. And he still hadn't told her everything, if that dream was any sign. "Come in. You have five minutes."

The door open and shut quickly, and she could feel Harry looking at her, taking in the sight. She was sitting on the stone floor behind her desk, resting up against the wall, knees pulled up tight against her chest.

"Fetal position?"

She glared up at him. "Talk. Now. You looked for me? Publicly?"

"For an entire year. I would have looked longer, but I didn't need to. I'd spotted you on the street one day, you had just gotten coffee. You were wrapped up in a little black coat and leggings or tights or something and boots. Big scarf around your neck. You were on your mobile, coffee in one hand, big looking folder of papers under your arm. I'd been looking for you for a year, and you'd just shown up in front of me when I decided to take a little trip into muggle London for the day. I thought about saying something, but... you wouldn't have wanted that. I left you alone."

"Why?"

"You deserved some peace and quiet. And that was very obviously what you'd left for - that, and to get away from me."

"Oh."

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"I never told you this before today because I didn't want to overwhelm you. You've found out enough, and..."

"Honestly, Harry, I'd rather find out now, from you, than from my students, in the middle of class."

"Liza told me you started crying and kicked them all out."

"Essentially, yes."

He grinned slightly, so did she. Hermione had never been one for _actually _keeping cool under pressure - just acting like she could.

"In that case, Hermione... we'll talk later. You've been through enough in the last hour. I'll talk to you more tonight."

"Tonight?"

"We have patrol together."

_Perfect. _"Oh. Right. Of course." She stood, nodding. "I'll see you then. But for now... I still need some time to myself."

He silently agreed, and obeyed, stepping out the door and leaving her alone with her thoughts once again.

* * *

><p>"How are you feeling? After this afternoon?"<p>

"Honestly, Harry... I was just shocked. But it was better to finally hear it."

"That's... good. There's something else I should probably tell you then, while we don't have an audience."

The halls were eerily silent, the sounds of their footsteps echoing off the stone walls and floor.

"Hermione, I haven't told you everything."

Should she even tell him about the dream? She'd had an eerie feeling that the girl from her dreams was correct, and here it was. It was like jumping straight into cold water - you knew what you were expecting, but you weren't expecting that much of a shock to your system.

"I... I had a dream. A girl, she kept dying. She kept saying 'He hasn't told you everything'. And I knew that meant you."

"I just... it's hard."

"I can imagine. But what is it? It's best to tell me now... you saw today what happens when you don't tell me things. It never works out right." The pair smiled briefly, but Harry immediately turned serious again.

"There's something I've never admitted to anyone else on this Earth... not even Ginny, when everything went bad. I mean... at first, she only knew about the one time. And then... a few months later, I confessed that it had been a long affair. She chucked the ring at me and left. But... that's complicated too. There's only one thing that matters out of all that."

She was nervous now. What was it that he was admitting to? And why?

"I think before I tell you, I should explain that there's a bit more information to it... and I'll get to that. It's... complicated."

She only nodded, folding her arms tighter. This sounded big. What had he been hiding?

"When you ran into Ginny that day at the Market - nearly three months after everything had happened - she told me you'd made a comment about the ring."

"It was a beautiful ring. And it was on her hand. I was heartbroken, still. She was bitter and cold to me, I was the same way back."

"That's what I'm getting at. Hermione, that ring had been purchased nearly a year and a half previous."

"But you and Ginny weren't even dating then."

"Exactly."

"You and I were still... no. You weren't with Ginny. And I'd been thinking about leaving Ron. Harry, no..."

"Yes, Hermione. That ring..."

"Stop, Harry. Don't, I beg of you please do not say it."

"That ring belonged to you from the second I bought it. I had never intended to marry Ginny Weasley - and I only did so after you made it very clear you never wanted to see me again. I settled for... even less than second best. But that ring was purchased from Waddington's Jewelers one and one half years before you saw it. And it was purchased for you."

An engagement ring. From Harry, to her. This changed things.

"How. Why? I hadn't left Ron."

"At the time, I thought differently. You had said you might leave him. For me. And I took that to mean that there was a good chance of it."

"Harry there was always a good chance of me leaving Ron, but... a _ring? _"

"White gold. White diamonds, except for two very small pink ones on the edges. Intricate gold work, patterns, a very old world feel. It reminded me of you, and I bought it. I figured if you were willing to leave Ron, somewhat for me, then I'd finally have my chance. I'd have broken things off with Ginny the day you left Ron, if that had happened."

"Right... but a _ring?_"


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Back again. And, continuing from exactly where we left off last time... I realized recently that my timeline for the previous chapters is all muddled, so at the end of this chapter I'm going to work it all out for you. At one point I said it had been five years since she'd been to Hogwarts, then two chapters later I said it had been six years since she'd first slept with Harry... so it'll all be straightened out. Cheers!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Harry there was always a good chance of me leaving Ron, but... a <em>ring? <em>"

"White gold. White diamonds, except for two very small pink ones on the edges. Intricate gold work, patterns, a very old world feel. It reminded me of you, and I bought it. I figured if you were willing to leave Ron, somewhat for me, then I'd finally have my chance. I'd have broken things off with Ginny the day you left Ron, if that had happened."

"Right... but a _ring?_"

He chuckled slightly, noticing her shock. She was incredulous, the look on her face was both disbelieving and somewhat awakened, as well. "Yes, Hermione. A ring. And after what we'd been through... after talk of you leaving Ron, and after my hesitation at starting things up again with Ginny... can you blame me?"

"Harry James Potter there are plenty of things I can blame you for... this lays at the top of the list."

He smiled, this time. Her sarcasm spoke enough for itself - she was shocked, but not angry.

"Harry, I just... I knew it had to be something like this. Weird. Over the top. But I wasn't expecting a _ring_."

"Why do you keep saying it like that?"

"Because! I just... I don't know. To be honest... I can't blame you. I can't say the same thoughts hadn't passed through my head, plenty of times. But I never thought you of all people would go through with it."

"A lion's courage..."

"And a man's mistake. Yes." It was her time to laugh a little now, almost taunting him. "Harry... I'd been with Ron for what, five years? We'd been married for around three."

"But you'd been the one talking about leaving him... you'd said it yourself."

She had. And there was no denying that. She sighed. "Harry, it's just... things were different and difficult to explain. You know that."

"I do. I know. I just... can you blame me? We had something... something special. And if you hadn't been with Ron, and I hadn't have been getting back together with Gin... things could have been very different."

She made a little humming noise, but knew exactly what he was saying. Of course they'd both played out these scenarios in their heads before. Plenty of times.

* * *

><p>"Students, there's the ring, class has ended for the day... please remember your assignments for next class, I only want six inches, and I hope plenty of you have at least that much..." Harry winked, pointing around at a few of the male students in his classroom, while the rest of them erupted in laughter. If there was anything he'd learned in teaching at Hogwarts, it had been that cracking jokes and making remembering things a funny ordeal was the only way to get things done with children. With his younger students, he mostly made fun of himself, or McGonagall, or Filch, or the ghosts. For his older students, he made fun of the over-confident males, himself, and, well... anything sexual at all. He hadn't had a student miss a paper in all his time teaching, so he had to be doing something right.<p>

Hermione, he'd heard, had been struggling slightly. Well, he could see why - it wasn't that she was a boring professor, he'd heard certain students say they really liked her... but she didn't have the most interesting subjects to teach. NEWT level charms? Of course that was a good one, students loved learning new things they could do with magic. Runes? Unless you studied them day and night every day of your life, they just looked like squiggles and scratches. Arithmancy? It was like muggle maths, unless it was your favorite subject, it was probably your least favorite. The over-achievers, like she'd been, excelled. The rest of her students seemed to perpetually be scratching their heads. Even in her years spent away from the magical world, she retained all of that information. By next morning's breakfast, ninety percent of her students couldn't remember past the fundamentals of the subject they were studying.

Hermione had never really been known for her jokes. A lack of a sense of humor - something he never thought he'd like in a woman, until her.

He surmised that part of her stress over the last few days was not only over the last of the seminars she'd given over the war, but also over the next week - the international students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be arriving in just a few short days. He understood her apprehension there entirely - when McGonagall had first approached him with news that Hogwarts would be hosting the tournament this year, and that it would be re-instated in the first place, he'd had to sit down for a moment and try not to tear up. The war had done terrible things to them, but that didn't mean that those were the only deaths that haunted him. In fact, Cedric's was a death that stood out to him most painfully, most clearly - because he'd been right there, and Cedric hadn't even had a chance to fight back. He was just... gone. And yet the tournament was back. And Harry didn't know if he could handle it without someone to lean on. Unfortunately, the only person he could think to lean on, could barely stand being in the same room as him.

* * *

><p>She'd been sent up to the Gryffindor common room by the Headmistress to retrieve a student who was in trouble. It was her first night in the room since the day of and and the days after the final battle, and it didn't look a bit different than she remembered it - overstuffed armchairs, nearly threadbare rugs in front of the big, roaring fire. Students chattering away playing games of wizards chess and exploding snap. There was something about the air of the whole room that was different from any other place at Hogwarts - she missed it, dreadfully, though it was almost as if she hadn't realized it until the second she laid eyes on it again, and...oh, it was sort of like...<p>

"Professor?" A younger girl was standing beside her, giggling slightly at the fact that Hermione was standing completely out of it in the doorway to the common room.

"Hmm, yes? Right. I'm looking for... her name is Michele? The headmistress is looking for her. Something about her marks in classes. Third year. You know her?"

The girl nodded. "She's in my dormitory. I had a feeling she'd get in trouble sooner or later. I'll get her." The girl turned and ran up the spiral staircase to the dormitories, and Hermione found herself hesitating slightly before turning to leave again. This room held something that no other place in the castle did - a feeling she couldn't quite put into words. She couldn't count the times she'd been curled up in front of the fire, reading, and Harry and Ron had been sitting just a step away, playing a game or talking about quidditch. Everything about this room was comfortable - even the memories were warm, inviting. She realized then that no matter how terribly things had gone after the war, things had been so much better here, simpler - and perhaps that friendship was something that could withstand everything they'd been through. Ron was another question entirely, she was sure he and the rest of the world had heard she was back in action again, teaching at Hogwarts. But Harry was right there with her. Maybe he deserved a little more credit he'd _always _been right there with her.

She stepped out of the common rooms and walked down a random hallway - a classroom they'd had classes in together. A particular hall they'd walked one night in their sixth year, talking about Ron messing up and what they could do about it. She had a sudden urge to explore parts of the castle she hadn't seen since she returned, and so she did just that. She'd start outside. In just a few minutes time she was by the lake, and memories of the triwizard tournament and of nights overlooking the rippling surface came to mind. The forbidden forest - too many to mention. The walk back to the castle, by the Great Hall, where they'd eaten every meal together. To the classrooms, the staircases, the towers. And the funniest thing was, try as she might, Hermione could only recall half of these memories being those with Ron present. Perhaps it really had always been Harry. Perhaps that was her mistake - not seeing it right while it was happening.

She stood in front of the portrait hole for the second time that day. The Fat Lady grinned. "Reminiscing?"

"Something of the sort."

"It's been a while since you've been at this school, child - among wizards at all, from what I hear."

"It's true. I was... gone, for a while."

"Hiding?"

"Something like it." She gave a weak smile, and the Fat Lady smiled back, but shook her head. "What finally convinced you to come back?"

The question struck her as odd. What had convinced Hermione? Hogwarts, for one, but perhaps it was Harry, in his own way. He'd done whatever it took to get her to return to Hogwarts. "A letter. A very, very good letter."

"From Harry?"

"I take it you two still talk."

"He's the Head of House for the dormitory I protect. And the portraits do talk, you know..."

"I'm all too aware. Yes, from Harry."

"He's a good man. Grown up a bit... not just on the inside, either."

"You!"

"What about it? He has! And he's getting better looking every day. Oh, to be in your shoes..." she gave Hermione a little wink, and she laughed. Hermione had sort of missed her, too.

"I suppose. Has he come to check and make sure everyone's in bed?"

"Just a bit ago. He's up late, as are you."

"Yes, I've been wandering about for the last hour or two. Nearly everyone's asleep."

"Save for me, you, and Mr. Potter. I, however, do need my beauty sleep, dear, so you'll have to excuse me." She pulled a little mask over her eyes and leaned back over her chair dramatically. Hermione tried her hardest not to laugh when the chair nearly tipped. She tip-toed off, twisting down hallways again and again until she looked up suddenly, and realized where she was. Harry's door.

Why had her feet taken her here? It wasn't a particularly inconvenient part of the castle, and not far from her own door, but still. She hadn't expected to nearly be nose-to-door with Harry's door tonight. But here she was. And now she had two options - to knock, or to run. She heard a shift inside, some sort of sign letting her know he was still awake. She couldn't stand out here all night, but the choice wasn't coming to her easily, and -

The door opened. Harry, standing in pyjama pants and no shirt, was staring at her.

"Hi."

"Harry. I..."

"I had a charm alert me to someone outside my door... just a precaution."

"A good one to take. Yes."

"Why are you outside my door? Aren't you still furious with me, or something?"

Typically, she'd be irritated by his sarcasm. Tonight, she was shocked enough to not care. "I'm probably supposed to be. But I'm not. I don't know if I can be, anymore."

He blinked. "That's good. It was sort of exhausting trying to keep up with whether or not we were on good terms or bad."

"We're. I don't know. I just walked around the whole castle practically, and I was just thinking about things, and the Fat Lady talked to me, and then I just sort of started walking, thinking about what she'd said... and about a minute ago, I looked up and found myself at your door."

"And you're still here? She told you I'm awake, then..."

"I was actually in the middle of deciding whether or not to do something about it and knock... or just run."

He grinned. "You've never been the fastest runner. Care to come in? I was just having a drink before bed."

"Oh I shouldn't, I..."

"Hermione, it's a Friday. There's one short midday class tomorrow and there are..." he checked his watch, the same watch he'd been wearing since his seventeenth birthday. "Twelve hours until then. So get in here. You didn't run. Congratulations, have a drink."

She finally gave in, stepping in past him and letting him shut the door behind her. His quarters were nice - not as spacious as her own, but very cozy. In his sitting room was one very large, overstuffed chair and one couch in front of a fire. A bookshelf was against one wall on the side, and a desk was against the other. She spotted two doors - one to a bathroom, like hers, shut. Another, his bedchamber, full of dark red satin sheets and a four poster she couldn't have imagined better if she'd done it herself. It even sat on four ornate, carved wood lions feet. She could see a racing broom against one wall, and as Harry had always been known for, socks and shirts littering the floor as common as dust.

"Nice quarters."

"They're nice enoughn I've been in here a bit... it's a bit of a mess, sorry." She watched him push aside a stack of newspapers, but not before she caught sight of her own name on the front page of one that didn't look very old at all.

"The mess is fine. Can I see the Prophet?" She could see Harry grimace.

"You might want the drink, first."

"Probably. You do that." She heard the clink of ice cubes and liquid being poured. Harry was then sitting beside her at a somewhat safe distance, still shirtless, with a decent sized glass in his hand, offering it to her. She took it without hesitation - this would not be like nights in the past. She'd have a drink with him, discuss this paper and her recent realizations, and then leave for bed.

The paper sat on her lap, her name sticking out to her like neon. _Hermione Granger sneaks back into Hogwarts - The When and Why. _It was a Skeeter article, naturally.

_Rumor has it that Hogwarts has regained it's favorite old pupil - a miss Hermione Granger, divorced from old school pal Ron Weasley, is heard to have returned to Hogwarts as a professor, teaching upper level classes alongside old flame Harry Potter. Years ago, the Prophet was first to report on the scandal and drama that shocked the wizarding world - Harry and Hermione's betrayal of the Weasleys, the betrayal of a husband and a girlfriend, of best friends who'd gone through years together. The affair, which ended the marriage of Ron and Hermione Weasley, now Granger again, seemed to only strengthen the bond between Harry and Ginny - however, they too soon split, after an engagement and a year-long search for Granger on Harry's part. _

Hermione paused, taking a long pull off her drink. Harry followed suit. He'd obviously already read this, and now it was her turn.

_The search in question only needed to happen after a distraught Granger, upset at having lost her husband, her friends, and her parents - left town, for good. Nobody knew where she'd run off too except perhaps Potter himself - who called off the search and said nothing more about it for years. It it believed that it is through his own personal convincing that she has returned to Hogwarts - but has she returned on account of a low staffing issue, or because of the Man Who Lived? Our accounts say it may be both - though Granger harbors resentment towards Potter, we feel that she may be back for more than just lessons. _

"You know, despite her guesses there, it's probably the truest thing I've ever read from her."

"I said the same thing when I finished. She had to do something, though. It wouldn't be Rita if she didn't."

"It's true. It's not... I'm actually not that irritated. I expected as much - hell, I expected worse."

He grinned. "There's the Hermione I know. Two weeks ago you'd have blown up and blamed this on me."

"Yes, well, I've been doing some thinking."

"Clearly."

"And while I don't fully forgive what happened... I'm ready to move forward."

"How far forward?"

"We can... let's be friends again, please Harry. I don't want to think past that, it's much too soon, but I want to be friends again, and cheer at Quidditch matches and eat breakfast and talk and... we can make lesson plans together. And drink hot chocolate when it gets cold..."

"Can we spike it?"

"Absolutely."

"Hermione, I'm really glad you showed up at my door tonight." His smile fell as soon as it had shown up. He was serious. She was too.

"I am as well. Thank you, Harry. You're just... thanks."

He smiled at her then, and she could really see how he'd changed - she could feel it too, with the jump in her heart. Yes, they'd be friends for now. Yes, she was terrified thinking of what might happen past that - but that didn't mean she was ruling out that something more could definitely happen.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Here's that timeline:<br>**

**December 1997, Christmas on the hunt - Harry and Hermione, drunk and lonely, spend a night together - and snog, and cuddle, and do things most best friends just don't do together. It's nothing terribly serious, but it does set them up for a few years of drama, feelings, and angst. Lovely.  
>July 1998, after the war - Harry and Hermione, under the influence of Firewhiskey and a night alone on a grassy hill, snog senseless. Harry and Ginny aren't quite together, and neither are Hermione and Ron, who both backed off a lot after the final battle. The problem? Said grassy hill is just outside the Burrow, and Ginny sees. She tells no one what she saw, for quite some time. A few weeks later, she decides she's going to University for a while to do some training for her desired profession. She leaves in the fall, and in that same fall, Hermione and Ron begin dating again.<br>June 1999, Ginny returns from University and she and Harry begin dating again. Hermione and Ron are still together, thinking about their future.  
>January 2000, Ron gets a little impatient and proposes to Hermione. She says yes - her only hesitation, I should remark on, is Harry - sometimes she feels they still have something. She accepts anyway.<br>January 2001, Ron and Hermione are wed. Ginny and Harry get into a fight that night, presumably because Harry is upset by the wedding and she can tell. They split up, quietly, and Hermione barely notices because she's in a little post-wedding bliss.  
>April 2001, Hermione realizes her marriage is not what she thought it would be. Ron's begun working at the Ministry, and he's busy a lot, always tired. She understands he's got a somewhat big job, so she lets it slide, but their love is faltering. She and Harry begin meeting in private, for lunches and dinners and sometimes just getting drunk at his flat. They're stuck in a rut like this until...<br>November 2002, Hermione is fed up with Ron and his lack of passion. In two years of marriage, it's been over seven months since they've slept together, and she fears he's losing interest entirely. Upset and whatever, she apparates to Harry's flat. They get drunk, and they sleep together. Uh ohhh.  
>November 2002-August 2003, Harry and Hermione have an affair. It's tearing them both up. Ginny, after five years, is coming back from University - and has told Harry that she wants another chance. Meanwhile, Hermione has mentioned that she's thought of leaving Ron for Harry. Harry buys a ring. THE ring.<br>September 2003, with Ginny back and Ron and Hermione at odds, there's too much on the line to suggest that Harry and Hermione could ever be together. They fight, but they figure to try and cut tension, they'll be together one more time - after this, Harry will go back to Ginny, and Hermione will decide if she's going to stay with Ron or not. She secretly thinks she will, for security's sake. During this one last night, Ron walks in on them. He leaves Hermione. Naturally for the sake of angst, this is when Hermione gets pregnant.  
>November 2003 - Hermione realizes she is pregnant, goes to Harry - who blocks her out because he can tell something is the matter and Ginny is there. On the way out, Hermione trips, miscarries.<br>February 2004, after an expedited divorce, Hermione is done with the questions and the scandal. She leaves town.  
>February 2004-March 2005 Harry looks for Hermione. He finds her... but leaves her alone.<br>March 2005, Harry proposes to Ginny.  
>May 2005, Ginny and Hermione run into each other in the city. They are both cold, vicious. Ginny flashes the ring, Hermione is disappointed.<br>September 2005, Harry and Ginny split. It's mostly mutual. She knows he was seeing Hermione, he doesn't love her like he loved Hermione. She gives him the ring back, and he sells it. This is when he's recruited to work for Hogwarts.  
>School year 2005, Hogwarts is somewhat short staffed, and two staff members are retiring at the end of the year. They know they'll have to recruit more staff.<br>August 2006, Hermione receives a letter from Hogwarts - really, from Harry - asking if she'd come back as a professor. **

**And that's where we are now. I'd written it down like this somewhere before, and subsequently forgotten about it entirely. It happens. Forgive me! I'm a terrible author. But please, please review! Sometimes I feel like abandoning this fic entirely, it's a little bit of a mess and it doesn't get nearly as many reviews as I'd like.**


	9. Chapter 9

It couldn't have been more perfect timing - less than three days after her run in with Harry, and the awkward conversation that followed, the foreign students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived. The Hogwarts professors spent their afternoon getting the groups settled, welcoming the foreign professors, and attempting to clear out enough classrooms for the other schools to hold classes in during the days. It was a rush of movement, and welcoming, and expressions of sympathy and sorry for the parts of the castle that had needed to be completely redone after the war.

Hagrid, who Hermione hadn't seen much of lately, was busy romancing Madame Maxime and didn't notice that a few of the winged horses were making a bit of a commotion with his own thestrals on the neatly kept lawn, and McGonagall was too busy trying to round students in that she nearly couldn't do it herself. Hermione, having nothing else to do, joined in, and they were followed soon by Harry and a few of the other professors.

It worked - moments later, the Hogwarts students, along with the guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, were seated in the Great Hall, chatting animatedly about the tournament and the rules, the challenges and the horror stories. Hermione noticed with a sort of empathy that Harry remained stone cold and silent throughout the proceedings, and throughout the opening speech. McGonagall went over the rules - only those of age could enter, there would be three challenges, etc. Hermione saw Harry pale, and decided she'd have to ask him about it later. That was part of moving forward. The cup was introduced and unveiled, and it was just as grand and awe-inspiring as Hermione remembered - but with a now-darker stigma attached to it. Tall, gleaming, and seemingly surrounded by a cool aura of intrigue and mystery, the cup was placed on a pedestal.

"After tonight's meal, the cup will be available for eligible students to cast their names into. Do not attempt to put forth your name if you are ineligible in any way - Dumbledore himself taught me a rather excellent defensive enchantment that will have you wishing you'd stay young forever." McGonagall smiled, but even Hermione could see the sadness behind her eyes - the loss of Dumbledore, and the loss of Fred Weasley, was still ultimately hard on all of them. It had been so many years, but so much had gone wrong during the war that Hermione had sometimes wondered how everyone was coping at all.

With a clearing of her throat and a wave of her hands, the tables were cleared, and McGongall, Harry, and Hermione watched as the students flooded out of the hall and towards the room where she'd said the cup would be in just a few moments.

"Who do you think will enter?"

She hadn't meant the question for either of them in particular, but they both tossed out a few names.

"Bobby."

"Eloise."

"Liza and Peter."

"Neandra."

"Lavender."

"Tom."

And the list stopped. The three staff members sitting at the table knew who would be brave enough to enter, and who they should be most afraid for if they were chosen. Hermione immediately remembered Liza turning red, embarrassed by a question. She remembered Bobby being direct. Neandra wasn't in her classes, but was quiet and extremely intelligent. Any of them were suitable choices - and Hermione would be afraid for any of them, if they were chosen. While Harry and McGonagall considered a few other names, Hermione stepped down from the high table, following the students out of the doors and through another set into a large, empty room with seats all across one side. She'd been in this room of the castle before, but not often. Younger students were standing in a ring around the cup, and Hermione watched a few students from all three schools dare to step up and toss bits of parchment into the cup. She watched Liza and Peter step over the threshold into the ring, tossing their bits in and smiling, hands clasped together between them. They were in this together - no matter what. It was the little things like this that made the pang in Hermione's heart that much clearer, and made her memories of her only truly happy times seem that much farther away.

* * *

><p>She hadn't seen him all night, not even at the last-minute staff meeting McGonagall had called just after dinner. Where could he have gone? She'd been meaning to talk to him since the Triwizard Tournament speech, and he'd suddenly gone missing, or turned invisible, or...<p>

"Ah, Miss Granger. Lovely night we're having, isn't it?"

Hermine whirled around to see nothing - well, nearly nothing. There was a ghost floating just behind her, in jubilant spirits as usual.

"Sir Nicholas. Yes, it's nice outside... not too cold yet. A bit rainy earlier, but nothing terrible."

"And the skies are quite clear, now. Stars everywhere!" He began to float away before Hermione remembered his adoration of Harry, and cleared her throat.

"Nick?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"I was wondering if you knew where I could find Harry. I've been looking for him for a while, and..."

"It's Thursday."

"Pardon?"

The old ghost grinned at her, shaking his head in a delicate manner - but not delicate enough for her to miss the squelching sound of his mostly-decapitated head.

"He goes up to the astronomy tower on Thursdays - the old one, not the rebuilt parts. You can still get up through the old staircase on the East side!" He was floating away as he said this, and had to raise his voice as he turned the corner. Clearly, he meant for her to go find Harry, as she'd intended. But was that smile sly, or perfectly innocent? Knowing Nick and what he knew, Hermione rolled her eyes. She knew why he thought she was looking for Harry. Goodness.

She crossed the castle, climbing staircases and winding through three hallways until she found the staircase in question. She'd heard that parts of the tower had been blown apart, and that the whole spire on top was now missing, making it no more than a flat, stone floor surrounded by a crumbling parapet that was once the walls of the tower. But she hadn't been up here since returning, and she was almost nervous, going up here alone.

Her first step up to the top told her a few things. First, that part of the original walls and structure were still intact. Secondly, now that some of the surrounding walls were gone, even more of Hogwarts and the night sky were visible from any point of the tower. And lastly, that there was only one other person atop the tower, and it was the man she was looking for. But not like this - never like this. He sat straddling a large piece of wall that was seemingly moved towards the edge by the parapet, low enough for someone as tall as Harry, but maybe not for Hermione herself.

She noticed, last of all, that he was upset. His face was in his hands, and from the movement in his chest, she could tell he was or had been crying. She took just a few steps closer, noticing the spectacular views of the lake and bits of the forest on the left. This was why he came up here - it was out of bounds to students at night, it was high above the ground, and it really was a peaceful place, despite the remaining damage. The newer Astronomy Tower, which she'd been to, wasn't anything like this. She remembered coming up here for classes, for stargazing at midnight, and sneaking out on a night or two with Harry and Ron after Quidditch matches - when she hadn't had too much homework to do.

She wanted to talk to him, now more than any other time so far this year. It was November, it was cold, and she just wanted to comfort him. But something about tonight made Hermione reconsider. She had so many things to say, but she could talk to him tomorrow. She quickly padded back across to the staircase, descending as quickly as possible and heading straight for her quarters. Something about seeing Harry that upset made her want to crawl under the covers in her quarters and cry a little herself. And try as she might to avoid it, it was exactly what she did.

* * *

><p>"Harry, I... do you want to talk? I meant to come back here and find you after Minerva's speech, but I went to see the students and the cup, and..."<p>

He was smiling already when he turned around to face her, his mouth full of eggs. He chewed and swallowed as she sat beside him in her usual chair, helping herself to potatoes and bacon.

"That why you came up to the Astronomy Tower last night? Who told you, Nick? I bet it was Nick, he's been pretty much the only one to know where I've been going all this time..."

"I..."

He was full on grinning now. "You think I didn't hear your footsteps?"

"They could have been anyone's footsteps."

"But they weren't - they were yours, and I know it."

"Oh." The silence that followed was as uncomfortable as it was revealing. So he remembered the sound of her foot falls, after all these years?

"I would like to talk, though. And you can join me this time. I've got a load of papers to grade, but you can come to my office before eleven, or join me at the tower again after then. I'll be up until midnight or so anyway."

"I... okay. I'll be there. Somewhere."

"Good. I just... you're the only one who really knows more about what it was like for me. The professors... you were there, you know? Not there when it happened, but you were one of the first ones to me when I got back. And you never left my side. You saw every... every ounce of hurt."

"I always have, Harry. Every bit of it."

"Yeah, I remember."

"I do too. I'll see you later? I just stopped in for a quick bite, students show up for my first class awfully early and I usually go let them in early."

"Yeah, see you later."

He went back to his breakfast, mumbling something about her footsteps, and she left the great hall, feeling only slightly like a specimen under a microscope. Even the students knew there was something happening, their eyes and the eyes of half the staff followed her through the hall. Though there wasn't a single lull in conversation, the world got quieter around Hermione. She'd shut it out, when she realized they'd noticed something that she didn't even want to admit yet - that there was maybe, possibly, still a whole lot of unresolved feelings she had for Harry.

* * *

><p>"I think the worst part, then, is that the Ministry keeps trying to convince us that it's going to be safer. Of course it will be! Voldemort's gone. But..."<p>

"But you're still worried. Naturally. Harry, did Minerva tell you they're going to have aurors everywhere, practically? And they're doing the same challenges as last time, only none of the students know that - they'll solve the clues like usual. They're too young to remember, anyway. Neither they or their parents would have been here. There will be aurors all over the maze and throughout the lake and dragon arena, as well."

"It doesn't make me feel any better. It's like you said when I ran into you this morning, about the cup. It's beautiful, but it's got a... what was the term you used?"

"A darker stigma attached to it. Right. I'm just... I'm afraid for the students that entered. Have you seen the list?"

"Yeah. Smart of Minerva to have the cup whisper out names for her to write down, to check age requirements. Pity Dumbledore didn't think about that..."

"Right. Well, did you see who was on it?"

"Yeah. The ones we expected, plus a few extras. I honestly expected a few more, by number, but ten is still plenty. Ten people submitted to be the Hogwarts champion. In our day, practically half of the seventh years put their names in."

"Those that were old enough, yeah. This year, it's like... everyone knows what happened, sort of. They're a little afraid..." Hermione trailed off, seeing the view of the lake from the Astronomy tower. She'd wanted to get closer to this view last night, too, but tonight was better - she was here, talking to Harry, and perhaps not so surprisingly, they were getting along perfectly well.

"Yeah. But the ones that did submit - there's only one I'm really worried about - Mandy Turner."

"She'd never get picked. She's half dim anyway. And a little... well, you know."

Mandy wasn't odd in a Luna Lovegood sort of way - she was odd in a bordering-on-St. Mungo's sort of way.

"Yeah. But Peter?"

"And Liza. When I held the open forums talking about the war and things... she's outspoken and strong, definitely - she's head girl! But she's got weaknesses, as well."

"Don't we all..."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And the rest of them, as well. It's actually looking pretty good. I'm just..."

"You're afraid for them? Yeah, try watching them grow up. I've been here a few years, and all of their real growing up, their maturing, their good times... I've been there for a lot of them, you know? I've taught every single one of them. And they're all brilliant - not just as students, but as people."

She sat in silence with Harry, contemplating what he'd just said - it was true. He'd really known them a while.

"It's like... I've got connections, with students. Peter came to me twice a week for homework help, now he's one of the best in their year. Liza has wanted to be Head Girl since the first day I spoke to her, and has always shown a great deal of House ambiguity and determination. Bobby is one of the most honest, caring people in the entire school. Neandra is a fierce duelist, I taught her myself when she couldn't manage to conjure even a weak defensive spell. Tom, unlike his evil namesake, is a quiet boy - but incredibly smart. Reminds me of you a bit, in ways. Stubborn, steadfast, and probably writing papers for half the people he knows."

"Oh, those were the days, weren't they?"

The pair laughed, remembering late nights of Hermione finishing an assignment for either Harry or Ron, or checking their work for errors. It had become ritual by only their second year, and Hermione had never really been bothered by it - they valued her intelligence, and their friendship had been more than enough of a reward.

"Yeah, they were. Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Minerva wants me to be closely involved in the Triwizard Tournament - in a few aspects. Will you help me?"

"Of course, Harry." She put her hand over his on the bench they sat on. "You need it, and I could use more to do..."

"You're busy enough as it is though, if you don't want to, if it's too much to ask..." He scratched his head, looking nervous. She saw the muscle of his arms even through the light sweater he wore. He really had grown to be quite attractive...

"Nonsense. This is helping you out, anyway. And besides, it's for the school, right?"

"We may be spending a load of time together. Organizing things. Leading students. The like."

"Consider where we work."

"Right. Thanks, Hermione."

She smiled at him, tilting her head back to look up at the stars. The last time she'd left this place, she'd felt like crying. This time, she figured, she was going to walk away feeling quite differently.


End file.
